
Qass. 



Book- 



/7 




WESTERN RESERVE ^ ^ 7^1 

HISTORICAL SOCIETY, ^ ^.2 J 

CLEVELAND, 0. 7^ 3 ^ 6 

POETICAL WORKS 



OF 



WILLIAM SHENSTONE. 



Entered 



Ml. 



6^ 



COitj) Life, Critical Di0j6fertation, anD 
Crplanator^ JSoteiOf, 

BY THE 

KEV. GEORGE GILFILLAN. 



NEW YOEK: 
D. APPLETON & CO., BROADWAY. 

M.DCCC.LIV. 






BrctiaTig'e 
West. Res. Hlat. 8oe. 



iS 



TIE LIFE AND POETRY 



OF 



WILLIAM SHENSTONE. 



Poets, viewed as to the quality of their writings, may be 
fairly divided into the following classes. There are, first, the 
equable, highly polished, and equal writers, like Pope — in 
whom there are neither great swellings nor great sinkings. 
There are, second, the fluctuating, uncertain, untutored, but 
divinely-inspired children of genius, like Shakspeare — whose 
faults, although not equal to their beauties, either in number 
or in degree, are yet sufficiently numerous, and sufficiently 
marked, to disturb somewhat the pleasure with which their 
writings are read. There is, thirdly, that class of gifted and 
cultured minds to which Milton belonged — whose beauties 
and blemishes are alike colossal; the former, however, out- 
numbering the latter ; and the latter springing more from the 
necessary limitations and inevitable weakness of the human 
mind itself, than from individual imperfection. There is, 
fourthly, a class of wealthy but careless minds, like Butler's — 
who throw out masses of unpolished ore, mingled inseparably 
with much dross. There is, again, a school of writers, all 
whose writings, amidst their biilliance, truth, and depth, are 
affected with a species of morbid weakness, and whose poetry 
reminds you of a fine voice cracked. And there is another 
class still, whose general works are inferior, but who, in hap- 
pier moods, have thrown off some genuine inspirations, which 
reflect a lustre on their other writings, and secm-e themselves 

an imperishable name. It is with this last-mentioned class 

a 



Vi THE LIFE AND POETRY 

that we are disposed to rank Shenstone and his poetry. The 
fact of his having written the " Schoolmistress " and the 
" Pastoral Ballad," alone entitles him to be ranked amongst 
the classical poets of our literature. 

William Shenstone was bom on the 18th of November 
1714, at tlie place afterwards famous as the Leasowes, in the 
district of Hales-Owen, — a district which, althougli thirty miles 
distant from any part of Shropshire, and surrounded by War- 
wickshire and Worcestershire, is held to belong to Shropshire ; 
a fact which will remind a Scotchman of the similar case of 
Broughty Feny, near Dundee, which belongs legally to the 
parish of Caputh, in the Stormonth, although it be more than 
twenty-five miles distant from it. His father, Thomas Shen- 
stone, was proprietor of the small estate of the Leasowes, and 
is described as a person of much good sense, although of 
limited information. His mother was Ann Penn, of the Penns 
of Harborough, an ancient family who had a property in the 
parish of Hagley, of which, after the deatli of her brotlier, she 
became co-heiress, and left to her son an income from her 
moiety, of £300 a year. William was sent first to the school 
of an old woman named Sarah Lloyd, who sat afterwards 
for the picture of the " Schoolmistress." He became early 
enamoured of books, and stipulated that when any of the 
family went to market, they should bring him back a new 
volume, which, if he had retired to rest, was carried to his 
bed and laid beside him. If this at any time was neglected, 
his mother is said to have wrapped up a piece of wood of tlie 
same form, and thus satisfied him till morning. He was 
transferred afterwards from his " dame school " to tlie Gram- 
mar school of Hales-Owen, and thence to an academy at 
Solihul, near Birmingham, kept by a Mr Crumpton, where 
most of tlie gentlemen's and noblemen's sons in the neigh- 
bourhood received their education. Here he distinguished 
himself by the <][uickness of his acquisitive powers and by his 
diligence. He was very early left alone in the world. His 
motlier, father, grandfather, and, some time after, his only 
brother died, and he was cast on the care of his grandmother. 



OF WILLIAM SHENSTONE, TU 

who also managed the estate. In 1732, he was sent to Pem- 
broke College, Oxford, — a college celebrated for having reared 
Dr Johnson, Sir William Blackstone, and many other dis- 
tinguished men, and which Johnson, in allusion to this, called 
a " nest of singing-birds." About this time his grandmother 
died, and the management of his affairs devolved on the Rev. 
Mr Dolman of Brome, in Staffordshu-e, who approved himself 
a kind and faithful guardian. 

At college Shenstone appears to have been happier than at 
any other period of his life. He intermingled social enjoy- 
ments with regular if not hard study, and became the centre 
of a little circle of youths of similar pursuits. Such were 
Whistler and Graves, the latter of whom became a very ac- 
complished person, and has left some interesting, although 
short and slight reminiscences of his friend the poet. Pem- 
broke College, like all other colleges, in times past and 
present, was subdivided into a number of smaller societies 
or clubs, collected through the attraction of common mental 
or physical tastes. Mr Graves gives rather a picturesque 
account of these little societies : one being a " very sober little 
party, who amused themselves in the evening with reading 
Greek and drinking water;" another, a " set of jolly, sprightly 
young fellows, who drank ale, smoked tobacco, punned, and 
sung bacchanalian catches the whole evening ; " a third, con- 
sisting of gentlemen commoners, who (like the bear-leader in 
Goldsmith, who detested everything low, and made his bear 
dance only to the " genteelest tunes ") " considered the above- 
mentioned as very LOW company (on account of the liquor 
they drank), and treated their novices with port- wine and 
arrack punch, keeping late hours, and drinking their favourite 
toasts on their knees ; and a fom"th, which formed a sort of 
flying squadron of plain, sensible, matter-of-fact men, confined 
to no club, but associating occasionally with each party." Mr 
Graves met Mr Shenstone in each of these clubs (except that 
of the water-drinkers !) by turns, and gradually became inti- 
mate with him, as well as with Mr Whistler, who gave some 
promise at that time of becoming a tolerable poet. The three 
were inseparable — read plays and Spectators, sipped Florence 



VIU THE LIFE AND POETRY 

wine, and from writing satirical characters of each other, began 
to shut themselves up, and lampoon the whole college — con- 
duct whicli transpired, and made them anytliing but popular. 

Shenstone took no honours, nor even a degree, at college, 
althougli he employed himself in the usual studies of mathe- 
matics, logic, natural and moral philosophy, with considerable 
assiduity and success. He made few acquaintances, besides 
Graves, Whistler, and Jago, who became afterwards well 
known as a minor poet — author of a pathetic elegy on Black- 
birds, a poem on Edgehill, and some other ingenious pieces. 
Shenstone himself was chiefly remarkable for what was then 
counted the odd practice of wearing his o■s\^l hair, which, 
being coarse in quality, little tended or dressed by its owner, 
and floating down over a large, ungainly person, excited 
some ridicule, and constituted him one of the characters in tlie 
college. After attending at Pembroke for four years, he put 
on tiie civilian's gown, but never went further in that direc- 
tion. He continued his name on the college books for a con- 
siderable number of years after he had left, whether with any 
purpose of again resuming a university life we cannot tell. 
It was, we think, a pity for himself that he did not subside 
peiinancntly into a Fellow. In this case, he would have 
written quite as much poetry, and been a happier man than 
when cultivating in the country his whims, his melancholy, 
and his Leasowes; only we should have lost that beautiful 
creation ! 

At the age of nineteen he had commenced his literary 
career, by writing a little mock-heroic poem, entitled " The 
Diamond " — one of a whole fry of productions which at that 
time were seeking in vain to imitate the inimitable " Rape of 
the Lock," Pope, indeed, might have filled another Duuciad 
with the names of his then rivals in that limited but exqui- 
sitely elegant and perfect circle of art which he first drew, as 
with a magic wand. Shenstone's poem was neither better 
nor worse than its neighbours. In 1737, when not more than 
twenty-three, he published, at Oxford, a Miscellany of small 
pieces, without his name, which, like the famous treatises on 
Monogamy by the Vicar of Wakefield, were only read by 



OF WILLIAM SHENSTONE. IX 

" the happy few " of his personal friends ; and if they did not 
lose, certainly did not gain him either reputation or money. 
Somewhere about this time, too, he drew the first sketch of 
his " Schoolmistress ; " but, deeming the subject low, delayed 
to publish it, applied himself to " The Judgment of Hercules " 
instead, as to a loftier theme, and completed and printed it in 
1740. 

Previous to this he had come of age, and, of course, to the 
possession of his paternal property, the Leasowes ; of his pa- 
trimony by the mother's side ; and, through the unexpected 
death of his maternal uncle, to another moiety of the Har- 
borough estate — tlie whole constituting what would even now 
be considered a decent competence for a private gentleman. 
Going down, he found the house at the Leasowes occupied 
by the tenant of the farm, and, instead of lodging or 
boarding there, or in the neighbourliood, he rather prema- 
turely set up house at Harborough. The house there, an old 
and timber-built structure of the Elizabethan period, was 
situated amidst ancient oaks and elms, skirted by the waters 
of a large pond, and surrounded by a colony of rooks, whose 
perpetual cawings served to feed that gentle melancholy which 
pervaded Shenstone's amiable, but sluggish nature. Here he 
lingered so long, that when the session of college came round, 
he had not the resolution to return ; and, indeed, seldom trode 
the courts of Pembroke College any more. He might now be 
seen instead, with his long hair and heavy visage, loitering in 
his garden, or half-sleeping beneath the shade of his old oaks, 
a pocket-copy of Terence lying before him on the ground, or 
scrawling verses on the wall of his summer-house. Mr Graves 
visited him at this time, and they spent a month very agree- 
ably in helping each other to be idle. We quote the follow- 
ing lively little anecdote from that gentleman's volume : — 

" We were one day engaged in a warm debate, in which I 
think I had the upj)er hand, and drove my antagonist to a 
painful dilemma, and with exultation pursued my advantage 
so far, that Mr Shenstone grew angry ; and our trifling dispute 
terminated on each side in a sullen silence, to which, as Mr 
Slienstone would not vouchsafe to break first, I, from a youth- 



X THE LIFE AND POETRY 

ful spirit of independence, disdained to submit ; so that, 
although we ate and drank together, this pouting humour 
continued, and we never spoke to each other for two days. 
At last, as I was never much addicted to taciturnity, and it 
was pain and grief to me to keep silence, I wrote upon the 
wall in a summer-house in the garden a line from Auac- 
reon : — 

* GeXo) dfXw fiavrji/M- ' 

which I translated — 

' I will, I will be witty.' 

Under this, ]\Ir Shenstone wrote this distich : — 

' Matchless on earth I thee proclaim, 
Whose will and powe?' I find the same.' 

This produced a reply on my side ; that a rejoinder on his ; 
till at last the ill-fated M^all was scribbled from top to bottom ; 
which the next morning was succeeded by a laugh at each 
other's follf^, and a cordial reconciliation." 

We may parody a well known saying thus, " When Cupid 
finds a man idle, he straightway gives him work." Slienstone 
about this time, having little else to do, chose to fall in love. 
His passion, for some time, seems to have veered between vari- 
ous heroines. One (a Miss M ) he admired and sung for her 

dancing. Another, a Miss Utrecia Smith (" Phoebus, what a 
name ! '') daughter of a clergyman, he admired and sung for her 

not dancing. A Miss G , too, took him captive for some 

time. Finally, however, his fickle heart was first tickled, and 

then fastened to a Miss C , whom he met at Cheltenham, 

and for a number of years afterwards he strove hard to con- 
vince himself and the world, by sundry elegies and so forth, 
that he loved her to desperation. Dr Johnson breaks down 
the romance of this story by asserting, that the lover might 
have married his lady if he had chosen ; and perhaps Shen- 
stone, at the close, like uncle John in Salmagundi, consoled 
himself by saying to his companions, " Boys, I migJit have 
had her;" but we are tempted to suspect that a nature so 
sluggish, self-complacent, and fond of serious trifling as his, 



OF WILLIAM SHENSTONE. XI 

was Incapable of a grand passion, and that all his raptures 
and sorrows, as reflected in the " Pastoral Ballad," were as 
fictitious in substance as in form — as much a make-believe in 
actual experience as in verbal expression. Mr Graves, on the 
other hand, asserts that he never could have dreamed of secur- 
ing Miss C y whose sister had married a baronet, and who 

moved in the highest circles, as his wife. 

Meanwhile, besides his musings under his old elms, and his 
visits to his inamoratcBy he was occasionally taking little trips, 
now to London, and now to Bath, to acquaint himself with 
the men and the manners of his time. In 1740, he had pub- 
lished, as we have seen, his " Judgment of Hercules," de- 
dicated to Lord Lyttelton, who was his neighbour, and whom 
he had strongly supported at an election. This was followed 
the next year by the completion and publication of his delect- 
able " Schoolmistress." His " Pastoral Ballad " he had 

sketched while in love with Miss G ; but, after his Juliet, 

Miss C , had supplanted his Rosalind, he contrived at once 

to accommodate the poem to her, and to stretch out its very 
elastic materials into its present four parts. In 1745, Mr 
Dolman, whose kind providence had saved Shenstone all 
trouble in the management of his estate, dying, the whole of 
its care fell upon the poetical landlord. After seeking for a 
while to evade the burden, and trying to live with his tenants, 
he was compelled to take the whole estate into his own hands, 
and proceeded to show how a poet can improve and embellish 
a landed property. 

Shenstone, indeed, is more remembered as the beautifier of 
the Leasowes than he is admired as the author of the 
" Pastoral Ballad." As Augustus boasted that he found 
Rome brick and left it marble, so our poet found his property 
a mass of commonplace confusion, and left it a garden of 
Alcinous. The place, indeed, originally possessed two great 
elements of beauty, wood and water, but they were utterly 
disorganized and irregular till this master-spirit — for in land- 
scape-gardening so he was — proceeded to arrange, combine, 
and embellish them. " From this time," says Johnson, " he 
began to point his prospects, to diversify his sm-face, to en- 



Xll THE LIFE AND POETRY 

tangle his walks, and to wind his waters ; which he did with 
fiucli jud<;meiit and such fancy as made his little domain 
the envy of the great, and the admiration of the skilful ; a 
place to be visited by travellers and copied by designers," 
" Whether," he adds, " to plant a walk in undulating curves, 
and to place a bench at every turn where there is an object to 
catch a view ; to make water run where it will be heard, and 
stagnate where it will be seen ; to leave intervals where the 
eye will be pleased, and to thicken the plantation where there 
13 something to be hidden — demands any great powers of mind 
1 will not inquire : perhaps a sullen and surly spectator 
may think such performances rather the sport than the busi- 
ness of human reason." We think Sir Walter Scott, and 
Hugh Miller in his First Lnpressiotis of England, have taken 
a juster and milder view of Shenstone's proceedings in this 
matter. If his conduct was a craze, it was a harmless one, 
and one which has produced very beautiful results. Better 
the madness of a Shcnstonc planting trees than that of others, 
Ilercules-like, tearing them up by the roots. Before looking 
into Mr Miller's volume, we had prepared to jot down two 
of the remarks w^e find him making. The name of the 
Leasowes had suggested to us, as to him, Abbotsford, and 
we were about to call it, as he has called it, the finest poem 
Shenstone ever composed. Yet has it, we think, some marks 
of the limitations of liis genius. It was not his fault that 
his space and his materials were scanty ; but we think his 
method was distinguished rather by ingenuity than by breadth 
and boldness. There was too much artifice, too many small 
surprises, too many seats, and urns, and obelisks ; all 
which artificialities, by the way, according to Mr Miller, have 
now perished. Scott's Abbotsford was garnished by a sterner 
taste, and with a more profound knowledge of nature's effects. 
Both these were the handiwork of poets, and yet we are not 
sure if either can be compared to the estate once possessed 
and beautified by a man of far less pretension, the late Lord 
Adam Gordon. We refer to The Bum, Kincardineshire, — a 
scene which, whether Ave consider its natural advantages of 
rock, wood, wild mountain-stream, bleak hills, and dark pines 



OF WILLIAM SHENSTONE. XUl 

bending around velvet lawns, and sunny gardens, or tlie ad- 
mirable skill Avitli which its walks have been laid out so as 
to catch the innumerable fine points of view, and thus to unify 
the whole, or the taste with which the few artificial edifices, 
fog-houses, towers, &c., have been placed, as if they had dropt 
down at precisely the proper spots, is the richest, most varied, 
and delightful combination of the beauties of art and nature 
we ever beheld. 

Alike Shenstone and Scott wanted space enough, and 
money enough, for the full execution of their ideal ; and both 
ruined themselves by the speculation. But we could con- 
ceive nothing finer in its way, than a man of princely fortune 
and poetic genius, taking up some large district in our High- 
lands — including, if possible, some gi^ntic Ben as the centre 
of the scene — and expending his time, means, and taste in 
beautifying still more what was beautiful, in adorning what 
was tame, in reforming with reverent hand Nature's grand 
errors, in casting a " browner horror " on the forests, in veiling 
vastitudes of desolation with woods, in mufiling and deepen- 
ing the voice of cataracts and streams, — in doing all, in short, 
that a wise art can do to add to the rich effects and har- 
monious completeness of a sublime and solitary Nature. 
This would embalm his name as efiectually as a noble epic ; 
and if asked for his works, he could reply, " Circumsince! 
that romantic region, which, in losing something of its savage- 
ness, has lost no grandeur, and gained much grace and 
beauty, is my poem, and it shall praise me for ever before the 
sun ! " 

We confess ourselves, having never seen the Leasowes, 
wholly unable to form a distinct image of that miniature 
model paradise Shenstone made it, and of course entirely dis- 
qualified to describe it to our readers. We refer them, how- 
ever, to Dodsley's description, inserted in some editions of 
Shenstone's poems, to " Graves' Recollections," and to the 
eighth and ninth chapters of Miller's work. Dodsley gives 
delightful side-views of the scenery, paints it in parts and 
parcels, although he never makes us see it as a whole. 
Graves describes, very pleasantly and graphically, the various 



XIV THE LIFE AND POETRY 

Steps by which Shenstone made the Leasowes become what it 
at last was — traces as it were tlie whole process of the trans- 
figuration — gives us a vivid idea of the gradual growth of the 
landscape-lyric. And Hugh Miller, although, as usual with 
him, he intermingles with his descriptions many technical 
terms, and talks much of trap rocks and secondary forma- 
tions, has, with even more than his usual power, painted 
the general aspect of the fairy scene. To supply our own 
inevitable lack of service on the subject, we shall give an 
extract from each of the three writers. Here, first, is Dods- 
ley's picture of Shenstone's waterfall : — 

" The eye is here presented with a fairy vision, consisting 
of an irregular and romantic fall of water, one hundred and 
fifty yards in continuity ; and a very striking and unusual 
scene it affords. Otlier cascades may have the advantage of 
a greater descent and a larger stream, but a more wild and 
romantic appearance of water, and at the same time strictly 
natural, is difficult to be met with anywhere. The scene, 
though small, is yet aggrandized with such art, that we forget 
the quantity of water which flows through this close and 
overshadowed valley, and are so much pleased with the 
intricacy of the scene, and the concealed height whence it 
flows, that we, without reflection, add the idea of magnificence 
to that of beauty. In short, it is only upon reflection that we 
find that the stream is not a Niagara, but rather a waterfall 
in miniature; and that by the same artifice upon a larger 
scale, were there large trees instead of small ones, and a river 
instead of a rill, a scene so formed would exceed the utmost of 
our ideas." 

This cascade is now only a long dark trench, covered with 
wood, and crusted with mosses. Graves speaks thus of it ; — 

" This cascade was absolutely no more than a mere ditch, 
or hedge-row of hazels and other common brushwood ; but by 
clearing away the briers and thorns, and showing the water 
busily huddling down amidst the roots and glittering through 
the stems of the trees, it has an uncommonly beautiful effect." 

We give one other extract from this pleasing describer : — 

" He had a bold ridge of rocks surrounded and almost 



OF WILLIAM SHENSTONE. XV 

covered by an amphitheatre of oaks, beeches, and other forest 
trees, yet, alas ! no water but what ran above sixty feet below 
it. He had a copious stream, however, on the heights above 
his beautiful valley at about half a mile distant, which, by 
taking the level, he soon discovered might be brought to the 
edge of the precipice. Thither, in a few hours, it was accord- 
ingly conducted ; and falling impetuously sixty feet down the 
rocks, then winding through the rough fragments of ala- 
baster, tufted with aquatic plants, it loses itself amid the 
shade of laurels and other elegant shrubs ; but forms, at the 
bottom of the valley, a beautiful piece of water, shaded by 
hanging woods, and adorned with a few buildings, which 
enliven, without violating, the simplicity of that beautiful 
Arcadian scene." 

Hugh Miller wields a bolder pencil : — 

" Let the reader imagine the side of a hill furrowed by a 
transverse valley, opening at right angles into the great front 
valley, and separating at top into two forks or branches, that 
run up, shallowing as they go, to near the hill top. Let him, 
in short, imagine this great valley a broad right line, and the 
transverse forked valley a gigantic letter Y resting on it. 
And this forked valley on the hill side, this letter Y, is the 
Leasowes. The picturesqueness of such a position can easily 
be appreciated. The forked valley, from head to gorge, is a 
reclining valley, partaking along its bottom of the slope of 
the eminence on which it lies, and thus possessing, what is 
by no means common among the valleys of England, true 
down-hill water-courses, along which the gathered Avaters may 
leap in a chain of cascades; and commanding, in its upper 
recesses, extended prospects of the country below. It thus 
combines the scenic advantages of both hollow and rising 
ground — the quiet seclusion of the one, and the expansive 
landscapes of the other. The broad valley into which it 
opens is rich and well wooded. Just in front of the opening, 
we see a fine sheet of water, about twenty acres in extent, the 
work of the monks ; immediately to the right, stand the ruins 
of the abbey ; immediately to the left, the pretty compact 
town of Hales-Owen lies grouped around its fine old church 



XVI THE LIFE AND POETBY 

and spire ; a range of green swelling eminences rises beyond ; 
L3yond these, fainter in the distance, and considerably bolder 
in outline, ascends the loftier range of the trap-hills, one of 
tliem roiigliened by the tufted woods, and crowned by the 
obelisk at Hagley ; and over all, blue and shadowy on the 
far horizon, sweeps the undulating line of the mountains of 
Cambria." 

These descriptions must excite an eager desire to see the 
Leasowes, although it has been sadly changed since Shen- 
stone's time, by a succession of tasteless and ignorant pro- 
prietors; its hedges clipped, its dark serpentine walks un- 
twisted and cleared, its cascades converted into dry ditches, 
its root-houses, obelisks, and seats torn down or turned into 
fuel, its memorial urns kicked down hill, its fawns robbed 
of their heads ; and those ingenious inscriptions on which the 
poet so much prided himself (preserved in this edition), blotted 
out — " the tablet in the dingle suddenly failing to compliment 
Mr Spence, and Virgil's grove no longer exhibiting the name 
of Virgil." Sic transit gloria mundi — of that little world of 
beauty and taste which Shenstone, with such admirable skill, 
collected around him. 

Amid all this, the proprietor of the estate was not happy, 
and had not a little to mar the unity, confuse the proportions, 
and disturb the peace of that brilliant dream he was incar- 
nating about him. His house was neglected and ruinous. 
There might be Eden around, but in the midst there was not 
a bower, but a barrack, llagley Park, too, was near ; and 
he felt now overwhelmed by its superior size and s])lendour, 
and now annoyed by the intrusion of its numerous visitors 
into his grounds without leave being asked from, or gratitude 
expressed to, the proprietor. He was, besides, alone, and had 
no female friend to whom to whisper, " How sweet this soli- 
tude is ! " And worst of all, his income being limited, and 
his expenses in beautifying his estate great, creditors began to 
appear, apparently admiring his cascades and his views, but 
in reality watching the owner, and benevolently destining 
him to a change of residence, and a removal to shades con- 
siderably deeper than any which lowered over the winding 



OF WILLIAM SHENSTONE. XVll 

walks of the Leasowes. By dint of anticipating the resources 
of his estate, however, he was enabled to put off the evil day ; 
and although he had, he said, " lost the way to happiness," 
he contrived to make his life endurable by prosecuting light 
and elegant avocations — drawing, studying natural history, 
writing lively letters to his friends, jotting down vigorous 
reflections in prose, and inditing in verse those pretty trifles 
which he chose to call poetry. 

From the year 1740 to 1746, Shenstone had visited at in- 
tervals London, Bath, Cheltenham, and other places ; but 
from tJiat date he seldom stirred far from home. In summer, 
he had only too many visitors, including many of the gentry 
and nobility. In winter, he was left to his own company, 
and to that of indolence, lassitude, and bad spirits. It was 
then regret for the loss of literary society, and especially 
of that he had occasionally enjoyed in London, came 
keenly upon his mind. Shenstone, although he had led a 
sequestered life, was far enougli from being a self-contained, 
self-reliant, self-satisfied man. There was some truth in what 
Gray said of him, that he " lived in retirement against his 
will," and had little enjoyment of his place except when 
people of note came to see and commend it. It must be 
granted, however, that when he could shake off his habitual 
indolence, he was capable of generous and disinterested 
actions, was attentive to his relatives, and delighted in pa- 
tronising rising merit. It was through his encouragement 
that Percy was induced to publish his Eeliques of Ancient 
Poetry. Shenstone even assisted him in the work, so that it 
was partly through him that Percy, formerly an obscure 
country clergyman, obtained fame, distinction, and a bishop- 
ric. About this time he became intimate with Dodsley 
the publisher, — a remarkable man, originally a footman, but 
who, by dint of industry and talent, rose to a prominent posi- 
tion as a publisher, and to considerable eminence as an author. 
Dodsley fm-nished Shenstone with literary intelligence and 
every new publication of merit ; and Shenstone, in return, 
gave him his advice and aid in the conduct of his Miscellany 
and the publication of his Fables. 



XVlll THE LIFE AND POETRY 

Shenstone, through his noble friends, had been flattered 
with hopes of a pension. Indeed, it is said the patent had 
been ordered to be made out, when his death rendered it 
needless. He had gone on a visit to Lord Stamford, at En- 
ville, and had caught cold on his return. This cold neglected 
became a putrid fever, under which he sunk on the 11th of 
February 1763. He was buried by the side of his brother in 
the churchyard of Hales-Owen, and lies in the very centre 
of the beautiful spot now identified for ever with his name. 

As a character, Shenstone was rather passively amiable 
than actively virtuous. His friends loved him, and perhaps 
the world might have loved him too, had it known him as 
well. He had no vices, and his foibles were sufficiently 
harmless. He was in person tall, clumsily built, carelessly 
dressed, with heavy, unanimated features. Dodsley and 
Graves outvie with each other in their commendations of his 
private character. He was sceptical for a long time, but be- 
came latterly much impressed with the truth of religion. 

His writings consist of " Essays on Men, Manners, and 
Things," Letters, and Poems. We are inclined to rank the 
first of these as the best and fullest expression of what their 
author was — a man of much accomplishment, good sense, and 
with more talent than genius. ]\Liny of his aphorisms are as 
pointed as they are true. He says, for example, "A poet 
that fails in writing becomes often a morose critic. The 
weak and insipid white wine makes at length a figure in 
vinegar." " Every good poet includes a critic ; the reverse 
will not hold." " Poetry and consumption are the most flat- 
tering of diseases." " Young has a surprising knack of 
bringing thoughts from a distance, from their lurking-places, 
in a moment's time." " People say, ' Do not regard what a 
man says, now he is in liquor : ' perhaps it is the only time 
he ought to be regarded." " It is one species of despair to 
have no room to hope for any addition to one's happiness." 
" A man has generally the good or ill qualities he attributes 
to mankind." There are several hundred similar sentences 
sprinkled through the book, which prove Shenstone a thinker, 
" — a fact which you could with difficulty deduce from his 



OP WILLIAM SHEN STONE. XIX 

poetry. Few volumes of poems contain less thought than 
his. 

His Letters are filled with the little complaints, the little 
gratifications, the little journeys, the little studies, and the 
little criticisms, of one whom indolence and rustication had re- 
duced to a little man. They are, however, lively and agree- 
ably written, although not quite free from affectation, and give 
us pleasant resurrectionary glimpses of a life and a society 
which have been dead for a hundred years. It is delightful 
to come back with Shenstone from a walk in the woods, and 
to find James Thomson, of the " Seasons," waiting for us in 
the parlour ; to get the first quarto edition of Akenside's "Plea- 
sures of Imagination" sent down to us by the mail-coach; 
and, along with all the world in 1754, to read and weep over 
Sir Charles Grandison, new from thc'press. The worst thing 
in Shenstone's correspondence is a small querulousness, which 
sends a jarring undertone through all its otherwise amusing 
pages. His very misery is of a Lilliputian stature. He 
seems once or twice actually annoyed because his visitors 
praised the nature exhibited in the Leasowes more than the 
art, and more than the poetry of its beautifier ! 

We come now to an examination of his poetical works, or, 
more strictly speaking, his poetical effiisions, for only a few 
of his poems seem to have cost him any trouble ; and he very 
narrowly escaped being one of the " mob of gentlemen who 
write with ease." The Preface to his Elegies is much better 
than his elegies themselves. The following sentence is fine : 
— " The style of elegy should imitate the voice and language 
of grief; or, if a metaphor of dress be more agreeable, it 
should be simple, and diffuse, and flowing as a mourner's 
veil." The great fault of Shenstone's elegies is the want of 
profound sincerity. You are sure he wishes you to weep, but 
not sure that he has first wept himself, although he tells you 
in his preface that he has. They are chargeable, besides, with 
considerable inequality and harsh inversion, and abound in 
that^a^^e classical language which was then the rage. Delias, 
Diones, Palemons, and Pygmalions meet you at every turning 



c^ 



XX THE LIFE AND TOETRY 

of the page, till you wish that the Latin language had never 
been coined. Elegies though they call themselves, we doubt 
if a single line iu them was ever wetted by a tear ; and the 
only sigh you breathe is when you contrast these stiff efforts 
of modem art with the grand old simplicities uttered from the 
deep heart of Hebrew sorrow ; with the song by which David's 
genius at once cursed and consecrated tlie mountains of Gil- 
boa ; with Jeremiah's tender plaints amid his evening wil- 
lows : or, if this be thought too stem a test of comparison, 
with the melting melodies of Tibullus and Ovid in ancient, 
and of Sliakspeare's " Fidele " and Milton's " Lycidas " in 
modem times. 

As his Elegies have started few tears, so his Levities have 
produced little laughter. Like his friend Graves, he says, 
" I will, I will be witty ! " but the power is absent. The 
utmost he ever attains is a kind of clever coarseness, which 
disgusts more than it delights. Yet we find from his letters 
that he had meditated several productions of the same sort ; 
and lie has left a list of the subjects on which he had intended 
to make himself, and, if possible, the world, merry — a list 
which produces no regret that the design was never ful- 
filled. 

His Odes are, some of them, more highly finished than his 
wont. Such is that on " Eural Elegance ; " but it is far too 
diffuse and wordy. His " Ode to ]\Iemory " is much better, 
because shorter and simpler. The following stanzas are very 
natural and pleasing poetry: — 

" But let me chase those vows away, 
Which at Ambitiou's shriue I made ; 

Nor ever let thy skill disijlay 

Those anxious moments, iU repaid ; 

Oh ! from my breast that season raze, 

And bring my childhood in its place. 

" Bring me the bells, the rattle bring, 

And bring the hobby I bestrode, 
When pleased, in many a sportive ring, 

Around the room I jovial rode ; 
Even let me bid my lyre adieu. 
And bring the whistle that I blew." 



. OF WILLIAM SHENSTONE. XXI 

It had been an admirable exchange ! Shenstone should 
have been contented with that fine childlike simplicity which 
was his forte. Had he been so, he had become in poetry 
nearly what Addison was in prose. What had he to do with 
lofty odes, ambitious historical or moral pieces, classical 
images, and blank verse ? He should instead have blown the 
boy's whistle as in the " Schoolmistress," or rung the simple 
bell of the " Pastoral Ballad." Few poets have tenderer or 
more felicitous little touches ; and our great regret is, that 
they occur so seldom, and are almost lost in the surrounding 
rubbish. 

' His " Judgment of Hercules " is not destitute of vigour, 
but is on the whole an effort against the grain. Hercules 
himself is feebly drawn, and the two ladies are worse. Virtue 
is a " martial maid," and yet " in artless folds of virgin wMt.e 
arrayed." Pleasure is a mere vulgar courtezan — a Duessa 
hardly disguised. The latter calls Alcides " dear boy ! " 
Yet the poem contains a good many lines nearly equal to the 
following : — 

" So glaring draughts, with tawdry lustre bright, 
Spring to the view, and rush upon the sight. 
More slowly charms a RafFaeUe's chaster air, 
Waits the calm search, and pays the searcher's care." 

Mr Graves has praised his " Economy " as a superior poem. 
It seems to us a clumsy and cacophonous imitation of the 
" Splendid Shilling," without its rich burlesque. We cannot 
put up with a second-rate parody, any more than with a 
mediocre pun. 

We have reserved his two best poems to the close. His 
" Pastoral Ballad " is perhaps of too artificial a structure for 
its name, but has some touches which recall to your recollec- 
tion the ballad-poetry of Scotland, and the songs of Burns. 
A higher compliment cannot be bestowed. 

" So sweetly she bade me adieu, 
That I thought that she bade me return," 

is familiar to every reader, and is a faithful rendering of one of 
Nature's tenderest passages. Hr Johnson's criticism on it has 



Xxii THE LIFE AND POETRY 

the following strange sentence: — " I cannot but regret that it is 
pastoral ; an intelligent reader, acquainted with the scenes of 
real life, sickens at the mention of the crook, the pipe, the 
sheep, and the kids, which it is not necessary to bring for- 
ward to notice, for the poet's art is selection, and he ought to 
show the beauties without the grossness of the country life." 
So then, the pastoral pipe echoing among the solitudes ; the 
crook, meek sceptre of the mountain-king ; the sheep, bright 
and beautiful foam, fiillen as if from heaven upon the dark- 
brown hills, and the kids sporting with Danger around the 
verge of the deep precipices, are a portion of the grossness of 
the comitry life ! Truly, aliquando Homerus dormitat. 

The " Schoolmistress " must for ever be dear to the world, 
partly for the subject, and partly for the manner in which it has 
been treated by the poet. Almost all people have some aged 
crone who stands to them in the light through which Shen- 
stone has contemplated honest Sarah Lloyd ; and as soon as 
she appears on his page, every one hails her as an old acquain- 
tance, and is ready to prove, by her gown, or her cap, her 
birch, her hen, her herbs, or lier devout hatred for the Pope, 
that she answers to his ancient preceptress — just as every one 
who has read Goldsmith's Schoolmaster in the " Deserted 
Village" is ready to cry out, "That's my old teacher." 
We, at least, never can read Goldsmith's lines without 
seeing a certain worthy old dominie^ long since dead, with 
his two wigs, — the dun for ordinary, and the black for 
extra occasions ; the one synonymous with frowns and flagel- 
lations, and the other with a certain smug smile which 
sometimes lay all day on his face, and spoke of a projected 
jaunt, or a quiet evening jug of punch, — with his sage 
advices, his funny stories, at which we were compelled to 
laugli, his smuggled translations discovered by us sometimes 
with infinite glee in his neglected desk, the warm fatherly 
interest he displayed now and then in his favoured scholars, 
and the severe ironical sarcasm (a power this in which he 
peculiarly excelled) which he drew at other times in a merci- 
less mesh around the victim of his wrath till he writhed again. 
Nor can we take up Shenstone's poem without reviving the 



OF WILLIAM SHENSTONE. XXlll 

memory of an elderly dame, now many years at rest, with her 
spectacles on her nose, her cat at her feet, her well-worn tav)se 
in her hand, and this universal apology for her continual flagel- 
lations upon her lips, the logic of which, however, her pupils 
were never able exactly to comprehend, "If ye are no in a 
fault just now, ye 're sure soon to be 't ! " And we are certain 
that if all who have had similar experience were piling each a 
stone on two cairns erected to the two ingenious authors who 
have expressed and represented this common phase of human 
life, they would soon out-tower the Pyramids. Shenstone's 
" Schoolmistress " has not indeed the point and condensation 
of Goldsmith's " Schoolmaster," but its spirit is the same ; 
and there is besides about it a certain soft, warm, slumberous 
charm, as if reflected from the good dame's kitchen fire. The 
very stanza seems murmuring in its sleep. 

After all, Shenstone, although possessed of great accom- 
plishments, much true talent, and a distinct although narrow 
vein of poetic genius, has done little. His life was uneasy, 
uncertain, and in a great degree useless. He never under- 
stood, and therefore never did his work, as a man. He first 
found, and then forgot and abandoned the sole path as a poet 
which his genius was qualified profitably to pursue. Yet his 
memory shall always survive, as the sweet singer of the two 
simple strains we have been just panegyrizing. And then 
there is, as aforesaid, his great-little work, — the Leasowes ; 
but, alas! of it, only the ruins remain — and while they 
preserve the recollection, they also preach the lesson of the 
weakness of this honest but indolent man — this true but self- 
stunted Poet. 



CONTENTS. 



ELEGIES. 



I. He aiTives at his retirement in the country, and takes 
occasion to expatiate in praise of simplicity. To a 

Friend 1 

II. On Posthumous Reputation. To a Friend . . 3 

III. On the Untimely Death of a certain learned acquaint- 

ance ........ 5 

IV. Ophelia's Urn. To Mr Graves .... 7 
V. He compares the turbulence of love with the tranquillity 

of friendship. To Melissa his friend ... 8 
VI. To a Lady, on the Language of Birds . . .10 

VII. He describes his vision to an acquaintance . . 11 

VIII. He describes his early love of Poetry, and its conse- 
quences. To Mr Graves . . . . .14 

IX. He describes his disinterestedness to a friend . . 16 
X. To Fortune, suggesting his motive for repining at her 

dispensations . . . . . . .19 

XI. He complains how soon the pleasing novelty of life is 

over. To Mr Jago . . . . . .21 

XII. His recantation ....... 23 

XIII. To a Friend, on some slight occasion estranged from 

him 24 

XIV. Declining an invitation to visit foreign countries, he 

takes occasion to intimate the advantages of his 
own. To Lord Temple . . . . .26 

XV. In memory of a private family in Worcestershire . 29 

XVI. He suggests the advantage of birth to a person of 
merit ; and the folly of a superciliousness that is 
built upon that sole foundation .... 33 

XVII. He indulges the suggestions of Spleen. — An Elegy to 

the winds ........ 37 

XVIII. He repeats the song of Colin, a discerning shepherd, 

lamenting the state of the woollen manufacture . 40 

XIX. Written in spring, 1743 43 

XX. He compares his humble fortune with the distress of 
others ; and his subjection to Delia with the miserable 
servitude of an African slave . . . .46 



XXVI 



CONTENTS. 



XXI. Taking a view of the country from his retu'emcnt, he is 
led to meditate on the character of the ancient Bri- 
tons. Written at tiie time of a rumoured tax upon 
luxury, 174G ....... 

XXII. Written in the year , when the rights of sepulture 

were so frequently violated ..... 

XXIII. Reflections suggested by his situation 

XXIV. He takes occasion, from the fate of Eleanor of Bretagne, 

to suggest tlic imperfect pleasures of a solitary life . 

XXV. To Delia, with some flowers ; complaining how much 

his benevolence suffers on account of his humble 

fortune ....... 

XXVI. Describing the soitow of an ingenuous mind on the 
melancholy event of a licentious amour 



49 

52 
55 

59 



G2 



C4 



LEVITIES; OR, PIECES OF HUMOUR. 



69 



Stanzas. To the memor}' of an agreeable 


lady bill 


•ied in mar 




riage to a person undeserving her 






70 


Colemira. A Culinary Eclogue 






71 


On Certain Pastorals .... 






. 74 


/"Vrt AT., r^ ^r l/'w1/lrt..»v»tMO*-/\.«'n T>r.rt*mT 






74 

74 


To the Virtuosi ..... 






The Extent of Cookery 






76 


Slender's Ghost ..... 






77 


The Progress of Advice 






78 


The Invidious ..... 






79 


The Price of our Equipage . 






79 


Inscription. To the Memory of A. L., Esqi 


ire 




80 


Hint from Voiture .... 






82 


To a Friend ..... 






82 


Written at an Inn at Henley 






84 


The Poet and the Dun 






85 


A Simile 






87 


The Charms of Precedence. A Talc 






88 


Cupid and Plutus .... 






94 


Epilogue to the Tragedy of Cleone 






96 


On Miss M s's Dancing . 






97 


Impromptu to Miss Utrccia Smith, on lior ii 


jt Danc.il 


ig • 


98 



ODES, &c. 

A Pastoral Ode. To tlu' Hon. Sir Richard Lyttleton 

Ode to Health 

To a Lady of Quality, fitting up her Library . 
To a Lady, with some coloured iiattcrns of Flowers 



99 
105 
107 
109 



CONTENTS. 



XXVll 



PAGE 

Anacreontic ......... 112 

Ode, written in 1739 113 

Upon a Visit to a Lady of Quality, in winter 1748 . . 115 

Ode to Memory ......... 116 

Verses written towards the close of the year 1748, to William 

Lyttleton, Esq 118 

An Irregular Ode, after sickness . . . . . .121 

Rural Elegance. To the late Duchess of Somerset . . .125 
Ode to Indolence . . . . . . . .135 

Ode to a Young Lady, somewhat too solicitous about her manner 

of expression ........ 136 

Written in a Flower-book of my own colouring, designed for 

Lady Plymouth 137 

The Dying Kid 138 

Ode , . . 140 

Ode. To be performed by Dr Brettle, and a Chorus of Hales- 

Owen Citizens ........ 141 

Comparison ......... 142 

Love and Music ........ 144 

Ode to Cynthia, on the approach of spring . . . .146 

SONGS AND BALLADS. 



A Pastoral Ballad, in Four Parts : — 






I. Absence ........ 


149 


II. Hope 


151 


III. Solicitude 


153 


IV. Disappointment ...... 


155 


The Princess Elizabeth. Alluding to a story recorded of hei 




when she was prisoner at Woodstock, 1554 


157 


Nancy of the Vale ....... 


159 


The Eape of the Trap 


161 


Jemmy Dawson. Written about the time of his execution, in 




the year 1745 


164 


BaUad 




167 


Song I 




168 


Song II. The Landscape 




169 


SongllL ..... 




170 


Song IV. The Skylark 




. 170 


SongV 




171 


Song VI. The Attribute of Venus 




172 


Song VII 




. 173 


Song VIII. Valentine's Day 




. 174 


Song IX 




175 


Song X 




. 176 


Song XL, XII 




. 177 


Song Xin. Winter . 




. 178 



XXVIU 



CONTENTS. 



Song XIV 
Song XV. 
Song XVI. 
Song XVII. 
Song XVIII. 
Song XIX. 
A Parody . 
The Halcyon 



The Scholar's Relapse .... 

The Rose-bud ...... 

Daphne's Visit ..... 

Written in a Collection of Bacchanalian Songs 
Imitated from the French 



PAOE 

179 
180 
181 
182 
182 
183 
184 
185 



MORAL PIECES. 

The Judgment of Hercules . . . . ■ 

The Progress of Taste ; or, the Fate of Delicacy 
Economy. A Rhapsody, addressed to Young Poets 
The Ruined Abbey ; or, the Effects of Superstition . 
Love and Honour ...... 

The Schoolmistress. In imitation of Spenser . 



186 
202 
221 
240 
252 
262 



INSCRIPTIONS. 

I. On a Tablet against a Root-house 
II. On an Urn .... 

^ III. To Mr Dodsley 

IV. On the Back of a Gothic Scat . 
V. On the Back of a Gothic Alcove 
VI. On a Seat under a spreading Beech 
VII. On a Seat .... 

VIII. On the Assignation Seat . 
IX. On a Seat .... 

X. On an Ornamented Urn. Inscribed to Miss Dolman, a 
beautiiul and amiable relation of Mr Shenstone's, who 
died of the small-pox, about twenty-one years of age 
XI. On a Seat, at the bottom of a large Root, on the side of 
a Slope ....... 

XII. On a Small Obelisk in Virgil's Grove 

XIII. On a Stone, by a Chalybeat Spring . 

XIV. On a Stone Seat, making part of a Cave 
XV. On Two Seats, to two of his most particular Friends 

XVI. On a Statue of Venus de Medicis 
XVII. Intended to be written at the Beginning of a Collection 

of Flowers, which Mr Sheustone coloured for Mrs 

Jago . 

XT^^III. Proposed to Mr Graves by Mr Shenstone, as a proper 

Inscription for Himself ...... 

XIX. Epitaph, in Hales-Owen Churchyard, on Miss Anne 

Powel ........ 



273 
274 
274 
275 
277 
277 
278 
278 
278 



279 

279 
280 
280 
281 
281 
281 



283 



283 



284 



ELEGIES, 

WEITIEN ON MAM MFFEEENI OCCASIONS. 



Tantum inter densas, umbrosa cacumina, fagos 
Assidue veniebat : ibi base incondita, solus, 
Montibus et silvis studio jactabat inani ! 

Vir.a. 
Imitation. 

The spreading beech alone he would explore 
With frequent step ; beneath its shady top 
(Ah ! profitless employ !) to hills and groves 
These indigested lays he wont repeat. 



ELEGY I. 



HE AKPJVES AT HIS KETIREMENT IN THE COUNTRY, AND 
TAKES OCCASION TO EXPATIATE IN PEAISE OF SIM- 
PLICITY. — TO A FRIEND. 

1 For rural virtues, and for native skies, 
I bade Augusta's ^ venal sons farewell ; 
Now 'mid the trees I see mj smoke arise, 
Now hear the fountains bubbling round my cell. 

2 may that Genius, which secures nij rest, 
Preserve this villa for a friend that's dear! 
Ne'er maj my vintage glad the sordid breast, 
Ne'er tinge the lip that dares be insincere ! 

' ' Augusta : ' London. 
A 



I ELEGIES. 

3 Far from these paths, ye faithless Friends, depart ! 
Fly my plain board, abhor my hostile name ! 
Hence the faint Terse that flows not from the heart, 
But mourns, in labour'd strains, the price of fame ! 

4 loved Simplicity ! be thine the prize ! 
Assiduous Art correct her page in vain ! 
ITis be the palm, who, guiltless of disguise. 
Contemns the power the dull resource to feign ! 

5 Still may the mourner, lavish of his tears 
For lucre's venal need, invite my scorn ! 

Still may the bard, dissembling doubts and fears. 
For praise, for flattery sighing, sigh forlorn! 

6 Soft as the line of lovesick Hammond flows, 
'Twas his fond heart effused the melting theme ; 
Ah! never could Aonia's hill disclose 

So fair a fountain, or so loved a stream. 

7 Ye loveless Bards! intent with artful pains 
To form a sigh, or to contrive a tear! 

Forego your Pindus, and on plains 

Survey Camilla's charms, and grow sincere. 

8 But thou, my Friend ! while in thy youthful soul 
Love's gentle tyrant seats his awful throne, 
Write from thy bosom — let not art control 

The ready pen, that makes his edicts known. 

9 Pleasing, when youth is long expired, to trace 
The forms our pencil or our pen design'd ! 

" Such was our youthful air, and shape, and face ! 
Such the soft image of our youthful mind ! " 



ELEGIES. 

10 Soft, wliilst we sleep beneath the rural bowers, 
The Loves and Graces steal unseen away ; 
And where the turf diffused its pomp of flowers. 
We wake to wintry scenes of chill decay ! 

11 Curse the sad fortune that detains thy fair; 
Praise the soft hours that gave thee to her arms ; 
Paint thy proud scorn of every vulgar care, 
When hope exalts thee, or when doubt alarms. 

12 Where with Oenone thou hast worn the day, 
Near fount or stream, in meditation, rove ; 
If in the grove Oenone loved to stray. 

The faithful Muse shall meet thee in the grove. 



ELEGY XL 

OK POSTHUMOUS EEPUTATION. — TO A PEIEND. 

1 grief of griefs ! that Envy's frantic ire 
Should rob the living virtue of its praise ; 
foolish Muses! that with zeal aspire 

To deck the cold insensate shrine with bays. 

2 When the free spirit quits her humble frame, 

To tread the skies with radiant garlands crown'd ; 
Say, will she hear the distant voice of Fame 1 
Or, hearing, fancy sweetness in the sound 1 

3 Perhaps even Genius pours a slighted lay ; 
Perhaps even Friendship sheds a fruitless tear ; 
Even Lyttleton but vainly trims the bay, 
And fondly graces Hammond's mournful bier. 



[ ELEGIES. 

4 Though weeping virgins haunt his favour'd urn, 
Renew their chaplets, and repeat their sighs ; 
Though near his tomb Sabaean odours burn, 
The loit'ring fragrance will it reach the skies 1 

5 No ; should his Delia votive wreaths prepare, 
Delia might place the votive wreaths in vain : 
Yet the dear hope of Delia's future care 

Once crown'd his pleasures, and dispell'd his pain. 

• 

6 Yes — the fair prospect of surviving praise 
Can every sense of present joys excel; 

For this, great Pladrian chose laborious days ; 
Through this, expiring, bade a gay farewell. 

7 Shall then our youths, who Fame's bright fabric raise, 
To life's precarious date confine their care ? 

teach them you to spread the sacred base, 
To plan a work through latest ages fair ! 

8 Is it small transport, as with curious eye 
You trace the story of each Attic sage. 

To think your blooming praise shall time defy? 
Shall waft, like odours, through the pleasing page 1 

9 To mark the day when, through the bulky tome, 
Around your name the varying style refines 1 
And readers call their lost attention home. 

Led by that index where true genius shines ? 

10 Ah! let not Britons doubt their social aim, 
Whose ardent bosoms catch this ancient fire ; 
Cold interest melts before the vivid flame, 
And patriot ardours but with life expire. 



ELEGIES. 

ELEGY III. 

ON THE UNTIMELY DEATH OF A CERTAIN LEARNED 
ACQUAINTANCE. 

1 If proud Pygmalion quit his cumbrous frame, 
Funereal pomp the scanty tear supplies ; 
Whilst heralds loud, with venal voice, proclaim, 
Lo ! here the brave and the puissant lies. 

2 When humbler Alcon leaves his drooping friends, 
Pageant nor plume distinguish Alcon's bier; 
The faithful Muse with votive song attends. 
And blots the mournful numbers with a tear. 

3 He little knew the sly penurious art ; 

That odious art which Fortune's favourites know : 
Form'd to bestow, he felt the warmest heart, 
But envious Fate forbade him to bestow. 

4 He little knew to ward the secret wound ; 
He little knew that mortals could ensnare : 
Virtue he knew ; the noblest joy he found 
To sing her glories, and to paint her fair. 

5 III was he skill'd to guide his wandering sheep ; 
And unforeseen disaster thinn'd his fold ; 

Yet at another's loss the swain would weep ; 
And, for his friend, his very crook was sold. 

6 Ye sons of Wealth ! protect the Muses' train ; 
From winds protect them, and with food supply : 
Ah ! helpless they, to ward the threaten'd pain, 
The meagre famine, and the wintry sky ! 



6 ELEGIES. 

7 He loved a nymph ; amidst his slender store 
He dared to love, and Cjuthia was his theme : 
He breathed his plaints along the rocky shore ; 
They only echo'd o'er the winding stream ! 

8 His nymph was fair ! the sweetest bud that blows 
Revives less lovely from the recent shower ; 

So Philomel enaraoiu-'d eyes the rose ; 
Sweet bird ! enamour'd of tlie sweetest flower. 

9 He loved the Muse ; she taught him to complain ; 
He saw his timorous loves on her depend : 

He loved the Muse, although she tauglit in vain ; 
He loved the Muse, for she was Virtue's friend. 

10 She guides the foot that treads on Parian floors; 
She wins the ear when formal pleas are vain ; 
She tempts Patricians from the fatal doors 

Of Vice's brothel, forth to Virtue's fane. 

1 1 He wish'd for wealth, for much he wish'd to give ; 
He grieved that virtue might not wealth obtain : 
Piteous of woes, and hopeless to relieve, 

The pensive prospect sadden'd all his strain. 

12 1 saw him faint ! I saw him sink to rest ! 
Like one ordain'd to SM^ell the vulgar throng ; 

As though the Virtues had not warm'd his breast, 
As though the Muses not inspired his tongue. 

13 1 saw his bier ignobly cross the plain ; 
Saw peasant hands the pious rite supply : 

The generous rustics mourn'd the friendly swain, 
But Power and Wealth's unvarying cheek was dry ! 



ELEGIES. 



1 4 Such Alcon fell ; in meagre want forlorn ! 

Where were ye then, ye powerful Patrons, where ? 
Would ye the purple should your limbs adorn ? 
Go wash the conscious blemish with a tear. 



ELEGY IV. 

Ophelia's urn. to mr graves. 

1 Through the dim veil of evening's dusky shade, 
Near some lone fane, or yew's funereal green, 
What dreary forms has magic Fear survey'd ! 
What shrouded spectres Superstition seen ! 

2 But you, secure, shall pour your sad complaint, 
Nor dread the meagre phantom's wan array ; 
What none but Fear's officious hand can paint. 
What none, but Superstition's eye, survey. 

3 The glimmering twilight and the doubtful dawn 
Shall see your step to these sad scenes return : 
Constant, as crystal dews impearl the lawn, 
Shall Strephon's tear bedew Ophelia's urn. 

4 Sure nought unhallow'd shall presume to stray 
Where sleep the relics of that virtuous maid ; 
Nor aught unlovely bend its devious way. 
Where soft Ophelia's dear remains are laid. 

5 Haply thy Muse, as with unceasing sighs 
She keeps late vigils, on her urn reclined. 
May see light groups of pleasing visions rise, 
And phantoms glide, but of celestial kind. 



8 ELEGIES. 

6 Then Fame, her clarion pendent at her side, 
Shall seek forgiveness of Ophelia's shade ; 

" Whj has such worth, without distinction, died 1 
Whj, like the desert's lilj, bloom'd to fade 1 " 

7 Then young Simplicity, averse to feign. 
Shall, unmolested, breathe her softest sigh, 
And Candour with unwonted warmth complain. 
And Innocence indulge a wailful cry. 

8 Then Elegance, with coy judicious hand, 
Shall cull fresh flowerets for Ophelia's tomb ; 
And Beauty chide the Fate's severe command. 
That sliow'd the frailty of so fair a bloom ! 

9 And Fancy then, with wild ungovern'd woe. 
Shall her loved pupil's native taste explain ; 
For mournful sable all her hues forego. 
And ask sweet solace of the Muse in vain ! 

10 Ah! gentle Forms! expect no fond relief ; 
Too much the sacred Nine their loss deplore : 
Well may ye grieve, nor find an end of grief — 
Your best, your brightest favourite is no more. 



ELEGY V. 



HR COMPARES THE TURBULENCE OF LOVE WITH THE TRAN- 
QUILLITY OF FRIENDSHIP. TO MELISSA HIS FRIEND. 

1 From Love, from angry Love's inclement reign 
I pass awhile to Friendship's equal skies ; 
Thou, generous Maid ! reliev'st my partial pain. 
And cheer'st the victim of another's eyes. 



ELEGIES. 

2 Tis thou, Melissa, thou deserv'st mj care ; 
How can my will and reason disagree '? 
How can my passion live beneath despair "? 
How can mj bosom sigh for aught but thee 1 

3 Ah ! dear Melissa ! pleased with thee to rove, 
My soul has yet survived its dreariest time ; 
111 can I bear the various clime of Love ! 
Love is a pleasing, but a various clime. 

4 So smiles immortal Maro's favourite shore, 
Parthenope, with every verdure crown'd ; 
When straight Vesuvio's horrid cauldrons roar, 
And the dry vapour blasts the regions round. 

5 Oh, blissful regions, oh, unrivall'd plains, 
When Maro to these fragrant haunts retired ! 
Oh, fatal realms, and oh, accursed domains, 
When Pliny, ^mid sulphureous clouds, expired ! 

6 So smiles the surface of the treacherous main, 
As o'er its waves the peaceful halcyons play ; 
When soon rude winds their wonted rule regain, 
And sky and ocean mingle in the fray. 

7 But let or air contend, or ocean rave , 
Even Hope subside, amid the billows tost ; 
Hope, still emergent, still contemns the wave, 
And not a feature's wonted smile is lost. 



10 ELEGIES. 

ELEGY VI. 

TO A LADY, ON THE LANGUAGE OF BIRDS. 

1 Come then, Dione, let us range the groTe, 
The science of the feather'd choirs explore : 
Hear linnets argue, larks descant of love, 
And blame the gloom of solitude no more. 

2 Mj doubt subsides — 'tis no Italian song, 
Nor senseless ditty, cheers the vernal tree : 
Ah ! who that hears Di one's tuneful tongue. 
Shall doubt that music may with sense agree ? 

3 And come, my Muse ! that lov'st the sylvan shade, 
Evolve the mazes, and the mist dispel ; 
Translate the song ; convince my doubting maid 
No solemn dervise can explain so well 

4 Pensive beneath the twilight shades I sate, 
The slave of hopeless vows and cold disdain ! 
When Philomel address'd his mournful mate. 
And thus I construed the mellifluent strain. 

5 " Sing on, my bird ! — the liquid notes prolong ; 
At every note a lover sheds his tear ; 

Sing on, my bird ! — 'tis Damon hears thy song, 
Nor doubt to gain applause, when lovers hear. 

6 " He the sad source of our complaining knows ! 
A foe to Tereus, and to lawless love ! 

He mourns the story of our ancient woes ; 
Ah ! could our music his complaints remove ! 



ELEGIES. 11 

7 " Yon plains are govern'd by a peerless maid ; 
And see ! pale Cynthia mounts the vaulted sky ; 
A train of lovers court the chequer'd shade : 
Sing on, my bird ! and hear thy mate's reply. 

8 " Erewhile no shepherd to these woods retired, 
No lover bless'd the glow-worm's pallid ray ; 
But ill-starr'd birds, that, listening, not admired ; 
Or, listening, envied our superior lay. 

9 " Cheer'd by the sun, the vassals of his power. 
Let such by day unite their jarring strains ! 
But let us choose the calm, the silent hour, 
Nor want fit audience while Dione reigns." 



ELEGY VIL 



HE DESCEIBES HIS VISION TO AN ACQUAINTANCE. 
Csetera per terras omnes animalia, &c. 

ViRG. 

Imitation. 
All animals beside, o'er all the earth, &c. 

1 On distant heaths, beneath autumnal skies, 
Pensive I saw the circling shade descend ; 
Weary and faint I heard the storm arise. 
While the sun vanish'd, like a faithless friend. 

2 No kind companion led my steps aright ; 
No friendly planet lent its glimmering ray ; 
Even the lone cot refused its wonted light, 
Where Toil in peaceful slumber closed the day. 



1 2 ELEGIES. 

3 Then the dull bell had given a pleasing sound ; 
The village cur 'twere transport then to hear ; 
In dreadful silence all was hush'd around, 
While the rude storm alone distress'd mine ear. 

4 As led bj Orwell's winding banks I straj'd, 
Where towering Wolsey breathed his native air, 
A sudden lustre chased the flitting shade, 

The sounding winds were hush'd, and all was fair. 

5 Instant a grateful form appear'd confest ; 
White were his locks, with awful scarlet crown'd, 
And livelier far than Tyrian scem'd his vest, 
That with the glowing purple tinged the ground. 

G " Stranger," he said, " amid this pealing rain. 
Benighted, lonesome, whither wouldst thou stray ■? 
Does wealth, or power, thy weary step constrain ? 
Reveal thy wish, and let me point the way. 

7 " For know, I trod the trophied paths of power, 
Felt every joy that fair Ambition brings, 

And left the lonely roof of yonder bower 
To stand beneath the canopies of kings. 

8 " I bade low hinds the towering ardour share, 
Nor meanly rose to bless myself alone ; 

I snatch'd the shepherd from his fleecy care. 
And bade his wholesome dictate suard the throne. 



t>^ 



9 " Low at my feet the suppliant peer I saw ; 
I saw proud empires my decision wait ; 
My will was duty, and my word was law, 
My smile was transport, and my frown was fate." 



ELEGIES. 13 

10 xA.h me ! said I, nor power I seek, nor gain ; 
Nor urged bj hope of fame these toils endure ; 
A simple youth, that feels a lover's pain, 
And from his friend's condolence hopes a cure. 

1 1 He, the dear youth ! to whose abodes I roam, 
Nor can mine honours nor my fields extend ; 
Yet for his sake I leave my distant home, 
Which oaks embosom, and which hills defend. 

1 2 Beneath that home I scorn the wintry wind ; 
The Spring, to shade me, robes her fairest tree ! 
And if a friend my grass-grown threshold find, 

how my lonely cot resounds with glee ! 

13 Yet though averse to gold in heaps amass'd, 
T wish to bless, I languish to bestow ; 

And though no friend to Fame's obstreperous blast. 
Still to her dulcet murmurs not a foe. 

14 Too proud with servile tone to deign address ; 
Too mean to think that honours are my due ; 
Yet should some patron yield my stores to bless, 

1 sure should deem my boundless thanks were few. 

15 But tell me, thou! that like a meteor's fire 
Shott'st blazing forth, disdaining dull degrees. 
Should I to wealth, to fame, to power aspire. 
Must I not pass more rugged paths than these 1 

1 6 Must I not groan beneath a guilty load — 
Praise him I scorn, and him I love betray ? 
Does not felonious Envy bar the road ? 

Or Falsehood's treacherous foot beset the way 1 



14 ELEGIES. 

17 Saj, should I pass through Favour's crowded gate, 
Must not fair Truth inglorious wait behind ? 
Whilst I approach the glittering scenes of state, 
Mj best companion no admittance find 1 

18 Nursed in the shades by Freedom's lenient care, 
Shall I the rigid sway of Fortune own ? 
Taught by the voice of pious Truth, prepare 

To spurn an altar, and adore a throne ? 

19 And when proud Fortune's ebbing tide recedes, 
And when it leaves me no unshaken friend, 
Shall I not weep that e'er I left the meads. 
Which oaks embosom, and which hills defend 1 

20 Oh ! if these ills the price of power advance. 
Check not my speed where social joys invite ! 
The troubled vision cast a mournful glance, 
And, sighing, vanish'd in the shades of night. 



ELEGY VIII. 



HE DESCRIBES HIS EARLY LOVE OF POETRY, AND ITS 
CONSEQUENCES. — TO MR GRAVES, 1745.^ 

Ah me ! what envious magic thins my fold 1 
What mutter'd speU retards their late increase ? 
Such lessening fleeces must the swain behold. 
That e'er with Doric pipe essays to please. 

' Written after the death of Mr Pope. 



ELEGIES. 1 5 

2 I saw my friends in evening circles meet ; 
I took my vocal, reed, and tuned mj lay ; 

I heard them say my vocal reed was sweet : 
Ah, fool ! to credit what I heard them say. 

3 Ill-fated Bard ! that seeks his skill to show, 
Then com-ts the judgment of a friendly ear ; 
Not the poor veteran, that permits his foe 
To guide his doubtful step, has more to fear. 

4 Nor could my Graves mistake the critic's laws, 
Till pious Friendship mark'd the pleasing way : 
Welcome such error ! ever bless'd the cause ! 
E'en though it led me boundless leagues astray. 

5 Couldst thou reprove me, when I nursed the flame, 
On listening Cherwell's osier banks reclined 1 
While, foe to Fortune, unseduced by Fame, 

I soothed the bias of a careless mind 1 

6 Youth's gentle kindred, Health and Love, were met ; 
What though in Alma's guardian arms I play'd "? 
How shall the Muse those vacant hours forget ? 

Or deem that bliss by solid cares repaid 1 

7 Thou know'st how transport thrills the tender breast 
Where Love and Fancy fix their opening reign ; 
How Nature shines, in livelier colours drest. 

To bless their union, and to grace their train. 

8 So first when Phoebus met the Cyprian queen. 
And favour'd Rhodes beheld their passion crown'd, 
Unusual flowers enrich'd the painted green. 

And swift spontaneous roses blush'd around. 



16 ELEGIES. 

9 Now sadly lorn, from Twitnam's widow'd bower 
The drooping Muses take their casual way, 
And where thej stop, a flood of tears they pour ; 
And where they weep, no more the fields are gay. 

10 Where is the dappled pink, the sprightly rose 1 
The cowslip's golden cup no more I see : 
Dark and discolour'd every flower that blows, 
To form the garland, Elegy ! for thee. 

1 1 Enough of tears has wept the virtuous dead ; 
Ah ! might we now the pious rage control ! 
Hush'd be my grief ere every smile be fled. 
Ere the deep-swelHng sigh subvert the soul ! 

12 If near some trophy spring a stripling bay, 
Pleased we behold the graceful umbrage rise ; 
But soon too deep it works its baneful way. 
And low on earth the prostrate ruin lies.^ 



ELEGY IX. 

HE DESCRIBES HIS DISINTERESTEDNESS TO A FRIEND. 

1 I ne'er must tinge my lip with Celtic wines ; 
The pomp of India must I ne'er display ; 
Nor boast the produce of Peruvian mines ; 
Nor with Italian sounds deceive the day. 

' Alludes to what is reported of the bay- tree, that if it is planted too neai 
the walls of an edifice, its roots will work their way underneath, till they 
destroy the foundation. 



ELEGIES. 1 7 

2 Down yonder brook mj crystal beverage flows ; 
My grateful sheep their annual fleeces bring ; 
Fair in my garden buds the damask rose, 
And from my grove I hear the throstle sing. 

3 My fellow swains ! avert your dazzled eyes ; 
In vain allured by glittering spoils they rove ; 

The Fates ne'er meant them for the shepherd's prize, 
Yet gave them ample recompence in love. 

4 They gave you vigour from your parents' veins ; 
They gave you toils, but toils your sinews brace ; 
They gave you nymphs, that own their amorous pains 
And shades, the refuge of the gentle race. 

5 To carve your loves, to paint your mutual flames. 
See, polish'd fair, the beech's friendly rind ! 

To sing soft carols to your lovely dames, 
See vocal grots and echoing vales assign'd ! 

6 Wouldst thou, my Strephon, Love's delighted slave ! 
Though sure the wreaths of chivalry to share, 
Forego the riband thy Matilda gave. 

And, giving, bade thee in remembrance wear ? 

7 111 fare my peace, but every idle toy, 

If to my mind my Delia's form it brings. 

Has truer worth, imparts sincerer joy. 

Than all that bears the radiant stamp of kings. 

8 my soul weeps, my breast with anguish bleeds, 
When Love deplores the tyrant power of Gain ! 
Disdaining riches as the futile weeds, 

I rise superior, and the rich disdain. 
B 



18 ELEGIES. 

9 Oft from the stream, slow-waiiclering down the glade, 
Pensive I hear the nuptial peal rebound : 
" Some miser weds," I cry, " the captive maid. 
And some fond lover sickens at the sound." 

10 Not Somerville,^ the Muse's friend of old, 
Though now exalted to yon ambient sky. 

So shunn'd a soul distain'd with earth and gold. 
So loved the pure, the generous breast, as I. 

1 1 Scorn'd be the wretch that quits his genial bowl, 
His loves, his friendships, even his self resigns ; 
Perverts the sacred instinct of his soul. 

And to a ducat's dirty sphere confines. 

1 2 But come, my Friend I with taste, with science blest. 
Ere age impair me, and ere gold allure : 

Restore thy dear idea to my breast, 
The rich deposit shall the shrine secure. 

13 Let others toil to gain the sordid ore. 
The charms of independence let us sing : 
Bless'd with thy friendship, can I wish for more 1 
I'll spurn the boasted wealth of Lydia's king.^ 

' ' Soaierville : ' author of 'The Chase.' — " ' Lydia's king : ' Croesus. 



ELEGIES. 19 



ELEGY X. 

TO FORTUNE, SUGGESTING HIS MOTIVE FOR REPINING AT 
HER DISPENSATIONS. 

1 Ask not tlie cause whj this rebellious tongue 
Loads with fresh curses thy detested sway ! 
Ask not, thus branded in my softest song, 
Why stands the flatter'd name, which all obey ! 

2 'Tis not, that in my shed I lurk forlorn, 
Nor see my roof on Parian columns rise ; 
That, on this breast, no mimic star is borne, 
Revered, ah ! more than those that light the skies. 

3 'Tis not, that on the turf supinely laid, 

I sing or pipe but to the flocks that graze ; 
And, all inglorious, in the lonesome shade 
My finger stiffens, and my voice decays. 

4 Not, that my fancy mourns thy stern command, 
When many an embryo dome is lost in air ; 
While guardian Prudence checks my eager hand, 
And, ere the turf is broken, cries, " Forbear : 

5 " Forbear, vain Youth ! be cautious, weigh thy gold, 
Nor let yon rising column more aspire : 

Ah ! better dwell in ruins, than behold 

Thy fortunes mouldering, and thy domes entire. 

6 " Honorio built, but dared my laws defy ; 
He planted, scornful of my sage commands ; 
The peach's vernal bud regaled his eye, 
The fruitage ripen'd for more frugal hands." 



20 ELEGIES. 

7 See the small stream, that pours its murmuring tide 
O'er some rough rock, that would its wealth display ; 
Displays it aught but penury and pride 1 

Ah ! construe wisely what such murmurs say. 

8 How would some flood, with ampler treasures blest, 
Disdainful view the scantling drops distil ! 

How must Velino ^ shake his reedy crest ! 
How every cygnet mock the boastive rill ! 

9 Fortune ! I yield ; and see, I give the sign ; 
At noon the poor mechanic wanders home, 
Collects the square, the level, and the line, 
And, with retorted eye, forsakes the dome. 

10 Yes, I can patient view the shadeless plains ; 
Can unrepining leave the rising wall ; 

Check the fond love of art that fired my veins, 
And my warm hopes, in full pursuit, recall. 

1 1 Descend, ye Storms ! destroy my rising pile ; 
Loosed be the Whirlwind's unremitting sway ; 
Contented I, although the gazer smile 

To see it scarce survive a winter's day. 

12 Let some dull dotard bask in thy gay shrine. 
As in the sun regales his wanton herd ; 
Guiltless of enyy, why should I repine 

That his rude voice, his grating reed 's, preferr'd 1 

13 Let him exult, with boundless wealth supplied. 
Mine and the swain's reluctant homage share ; 
But, ah ! his tawdry shepherdess's pride, 
Gods ! must my Delia, must my Delia, bear ? 

' ' Velino : ' a river in Italy, that falls one hundred yards perpendiculiir. 



ELEGIES. 21 

14 Must Delia's softness, elegance, and ease, 
Submit to Marian's dress 1 to Marian's gold 1 
Must Marian's robe from distant India please '? 
The simple fleece mj Delia's limbs enfold 1 

1 5 " Yet sure on Delia seems the russet fair ; 
Ye glittering daughters of Disguise, adieu!" 
So talk the wise, who judge of shape and air, 
But will the rural thane decide so true *? 

1 6 Ah ! what is native worth esteem'd of clowns 1 
'Tis thy false glare, Fortune ! thine they see : 
'Tis for mj Delia's sake I dread thy frowns, 
And my last gasp shall curses breathe on thee. 



ELEGY XI. 



HE COMPLAINS HOW SOON THE PLEASING NOVELTY OF 
LIFE IS OVER. TO MR JAGO. 

1 Ah me, my Friend ! it will not, will not last. 
This fairy scene, that cheats our youthful eyes ; 
The charm dissolves ; th' aerial music 's past ; 
The banquet ceases, and the vision flies. 

2 Where are the splendid forms, the rich perfumes 1 
Where the gay tapers, where the spacious dome 1 
Vanish'd the costly pearls, the crimson plumes. 
And we, delightless, left to wander home ! 

J3 Vain now are books, the sage's wisdom vain ! 
What has the world to bribe our steps astray ? 
Ere Reason learns by studied laws to reign, 
The weaken'd passions, self-subdued, obey. 



22 ELEGIES. 

4 Scarce has the sun seven annual courses roll'd, 
Scarce shown the whole that Fortune can supply, 
Since, not the miser so caress'd his gold, 

As I, for what it gave, was heard to sigh. 

5 On the world's stage I wish'd some sprightly part, 
To deck my native fleece with tawdry lace ! 
Twas life, 'twas taste, and — oh ! my foolish heart ! 
Substantial joy was fix'd in power and place. 

G And you, ye works of Art ! allured mine eye. 
The breatliing picture, and the living stone : 
" Though gold, though splendour. Heaven and Fate deny. 
Yet might I call one Titian stroke my own ! " 

7 Smit with the charms of Fame, whose lovely spoil, 
The Avreath, the garland, fire the poet's pride, 

I trimm'd my lamp, consumed the midnight oil — 
But soon the paths of health and fame divide ! 

8 Oft, too, I pray'd ; 'twas Nature form'd the prayer, 
To grace my native scenes, my rural home ; 

To see my trees express their planter's care, 
And gay, on Attic models, raise my dome. 

9 But now 'tis o'er, the dear delusion's o'er ! 
A stagnant breezeless air becalms my soul ; 
A fond aspiring candidate no more, 

I scorn the palm before I reach the goal. 

10 Youth ! enchanting stage, profusely bless'd ! 
Bliss even obtrusive courts the frolic mind ; 
Of health neglectful, yet by health caress'd, 
Careless of favour, yet secure to find. 



ELEGIES. 23 

1 1 Then glows the breast, as opening roses fair ; 
More free, more vivid, than the linnet's wing ; 
Honest as light, transparent e'en as air. 
Tender as buds, and lavish as the Spring. 

1 2 Not all the force of manhood's active might. 
Not all the craft to subtle age assign' d. 
Not Science shall extort that dear delight, 
Which gaj Delusion gave the tender mind. 

1 3 Adieu, soft raptures ! transports void of care ! 
Parent of raptures, dear Deceit, adieu ! 

And you, her daughters, pining with despair, 
Why, why so soon her fleeting steps pursue ? 

1 4 Tedious again to curse the drizzling day ! 
Again to trace the wintry tracks of snow ! 
Or, soothed by vernal airs, again survey 

The self-same hawthorns bud, and cowslips blow ! 

15 Life ! how soon of every bliss forlorn ! 

We start false joys, and urge the devious race ; 
A tender prey ; that cheers our youthful morn, 
Then sinks untimely, and defrauds the chase. 



ELEGY XIL 

HIS RECANTATION. 



1 No more the Muse obtrudes her thin disguise, 
No more with awkward fallacy complains 
How every fervour from my bosom flies, 
And Reason in her lonesome palace reigns. 



24 ELEGIES. 

2 Ere the chill winter of our days arrive, 

No more she paints the breast from passion free ; 

I feel, I feci one loitering wish survive 

Ah ! need I, Florio, name that wish to thee 'i 

3 The star of Venus ushers in the day, 

The first, the loveliest of the train that shine ! 
The star of Venus lends her brightest ray, 
When other stars their friendly beams resign. 

4 Still in my breast one soft desire remains, 

Pure as that star, from guilt, from interest, free : 
Has gentle Delia tripp'd across the plains, 
And need I, Florio, name that wish to thee 1 

5 While, cloy'd to find the scenes of life the same, 
I tune with careless hand my languid lays. 
Some secret impulse wakes my former flame, 
And fires my strain with hopes of brighter days. 

G I slept not long beneath yon rural bowers, 
And, lo ! my crook with flowers adorn'd I see : 
Has gentle Delia bound my crook with flowers. 
And need I, Florio, name my hopes to thee ? 



ELEGY Xni. 



TO A FRIEND, ON SOME SLIGHT OCCASION ESTRANGED 
FROM HIM. 

1 Health to my friend, and many a cheerful day! 
Around his seat may peaceful shades abide ! 
Smooth flow the minutes, fraught with smiles, away, 
And, till they crown our union, gently glide ! 



ELEGIES. 25 

2 Ah me ! too swiftlj fleets our vernal bloom ! 
Lost to our wonted friendship, lost to joj ! 
Soon may thy breast the cordial wish resume, 
Ere wintry doubt its tender warmth destroy ! 

3 Say, were it ours, by Fortune's wild command, 
By chance to meet beneath the Torrid Zone, 
Wouldst thou reject thy Damon's plighted hand? 
Wouldst thou with scorn thy once loved friend disown ? 

4 Life is that stranger land, that alien clime; 
Shall kindred souls forego their social claim t 
Launch'd in the vast abyss of space and time. 
Shall dark suspicion quench the generous flame ? 

5 Myriads of souls, that knew one parent mould, 
See sadly sever'd by the laws of Chance ! 
Myriads, in Time's perennial list enroll'd, 
Forbid by Fate to change one transient glance ! 

6 But we have met — where ills of every form. 
Where passions rage, and hurricanes descend; 
Say, shall we nurse the rage, assist the storm. 
And guide them to the bosom — of a friend ? 

7 Yes, we have met — through rapine, fraud, and wrong: 
Might our joint aid the paths of peace explore ! 
Why leave thy friend amid the boisterous throng, 
Ere death divide us, and we part no more ? 

8 For, oh ! pale Sickness warns thy friend away ; 
For me no more the vernal roses bloom ! 

I see stern Fate his ebon wand display. 
And point the wither'd regions of the tomb. 



26 ELEGIES. 

9 Then the keen anguish from thine eye shall start, 
Sad as thou followest my untimely bier ; 
" Fool that I was — if friends so soon must part, 
To let suspicion intermix a fear." 



ELEGY Xiy. 

DECLINING AN INVITATION TO VISIT FOKEIGN COUNTRIES, 
HE TAKES OCCASION TO INTIMATE THE ADVANTAGES 
OF HIS OWN. TO LORD TEMPLE. 

1 While others, lost to friendship, lost to love. 
Waste their best minutes on a foreign strand, 
Be mine, with British nymph or swain to rove, 
And court the Genius of my native land. 

2 Deluded Youth ! that quits these verdant plains. 
To catch the follies of an alien soil ! 

To win the vice his genuine soul disdains, 
Return exultant, and import the spoil ! 

3 In vain he boasts of his detested prize ; 

No more it blooms, to British climes convey'd ; 
Cramp'd by the impulse of ungenial skies, 
See its fresh vigour in a moment fade ; 

4 Th' exotic folly knows its native clime ; 
An awkward stranger, if we waft it o'er ; 
Why then these toils, this costly waste of time, 
To spread soft poison on our happy shore ? 



ELEGIES. 2 

5 I covet not tlie pride of foreign looms ; 

In search of foreign modes I scorn to rove ; 
Nor, for the worthless bird of brighter plumes, 
Would change the meanest warbler of my grove. 

6 No distant clime shall servile airs impart, 

Or form these limbs with pliant ease to plaj ; 
Trembling I view the Gaul's illusive art, 
That steals mj loved rusticity away. 

7 'Tis long since Freedom fled th' Hesperian clime, 
Her citron groves, her flower-embroider'd shore ; 
She saw the British oak aspire sublime. 

And soft Campania's olive charms no more. 

8 Let partial suns mature the western mine, * 
To shed its lustre o'er th' Iberian maid ; 

Mien, beauty, shape, native soil I are thine ; 
Thy peerless daughters ask no foreign aid. 

9 Let Ceylon's envied plant ^ perfume the seas. 
Till torn to season the Batavian bowl ; 

Ours is the breast whose genuine ardours please, 
Nor need a drug to meliorate the soul. 

10 Let the proud Soldan wound th' Arcadian groves. 
Or with rude lips th' Aonian fount profane ; 

The Muse no more by flowery Ladon roves. 
She seeks her Thomson on the British plain. 

1 1 Tell not of realms by ruthless war dismay'd ; 
Ah, hapless realms 1 that war's oppression feel ; 
In vain may Austria boast her Noric blade, 

If Austria bleed beneath her boasted steel. 

' ' Ceylon's envied plant : ' tlie cinnamon. 



28 ELEGIES. 

12 Beueath her palm Idurae veuts her moan ; 
Raptured, she once beheld its friendly shade ; 
And hoarj Memphis boasts her tombs alone, 
The mournful types of mighty power dccay'd ! 

13 No Crescent here displays its baneful horns ; 
No turban'd host the voice of Truth reproves ; 
Learning's free source the sage's breast adorns, 
And poets, not inglorious, chant their loves. 

14 Boast, favour'd Media ! boast thy flowery stores; 
Th}^ thousand hues by chemic suns refined ; 

'Tis not the dress or mien my soul adores, 
"lis the rich beauties of Britannia's mind. 

15 While Grenville's^ breast could virtue's stores afford, 
What envied flota bore so fair a freight 1 

The mine compared in vain its latent hoard. 
The gem its lustre, and the gold its weight. 

1 6 Thee, Grenville ! thee, with calmest courage fraught ! 
Thee, the loved image of thy native shore ! 

Thee, by the Virtues arm'd, the Graces taught ! 
When shall we cease to boast or to deplore t 

17 Presumptuous War, which could thy life destroy, 
What shall it now in recompence decree ? 
While friends that merit every earthly joy. 
Feel every anguish ; feel — the loss of thee ! 

18 Bid me no more a servile realm compare, 
No more the ^Muse of partial praise arraign ; 
Britannia sees no foreign breast so fan-. 
And, if she glory, glories not in vain. 

' Written about the time of Captain Grenville's death. 



ELEGIES. 29 

ELEGY XV. 

IN MEMORY OF A PRIVATE FAMILY ^ IN WORCESTERSHIRE. 

1 From a lone tower, with reverend ivy crown'd, 
The peahng bell awaked a tender sigh ; 

Still, as the village caught the waving sound, 
A swelling tear distream'd from every eye. 

2 So droop'd, I ween, each Briton's breast of old. 
When the dull curfew spoke their freedom fled ; 
For, sighing as the mournful accent roll'd, 

" Our hope," they cried, " our kind support, is dead ! " 

3 'Twas good Palemon — Near a shaded pool, 
A group of ancient elms umbrageous rose ; 
The flocking rooks, by Instinct's native rule. 
This peaceful scene for their asylum chose. 

4 A few small spires, to Gothic fancy fair, 
Amid the shades emerging, struck the view ; 
'Twas here his youth respired its earliest air ; 
'Twas here his age breathed out its last adieu. 

5 One favour d son engaged his tenderest care ; 
One pious youth his whole afi"ection crown'd ; 
In his young breast the virtues sprung so fair, 
Such charms display' d, such sweets difi\ised around. 



' ' A private family : ' the Penns of Harborough ; a place whose name in 
the Saxon language alludes to an army : and there is a tradition tliat there 
was a battle fought on the Downs adjoining, betwixt the Britons and the 
Romans. 



30 ELEGIES. 

6 But whilst gay transport in his face appears, 
A noxious vapour clogs the poison'd sky, 
Blasts the fair crop — the sire is drown'd in tears, 
And, scarce surviviug, sees his Cynthio die ! 

7 O'er the pale corse we saw him gently bend : 
Heart-chill'dwith grief — "My thread," he cried, "is spun ! 
If Heaven had meant I should my life extend, 
Heaven had preserved my life's support, my son. 

8 " Snatch'd in thy prime ! alas ! the stroke were mild. 
Had my frail form obey'd the Fates' decree ! 
Bless'd were my lot, Cynthio ! my child ! 
Had Heaven so pleased, and had I died for thee." 

9 Five sleepless nights he stemm'd this tide of woes ; 
Five irksome suns he saw, through tears, forlorn ! 
On his pale corse the sixth sad morning rose ; 
From yonder dome the mournful bier was borne. 

10 'Twas on those Downs, ^ by Roman hosts annoy 'd. 
Fought our bold fathers, rustic, unrefined ! 
Freedom's plain sons, in martial cares employ'd ! 
They tinged their bodies, but unmask'd their mind. 

11 'Twas there, in happier times, this virtuous race. 
Of milder merit, fix'd their calm retreat : 
War's deadly crimson had forsook the place. 
And freedom fondly loved the chosen seat. 

12 No wild ambition fired their tranquil breast. 
To swell with empty sounds a spotless name ; 

If fostering skies, the sun, the shower, were blest, 
Their bounty spread ; their fields' extent the same. 

' ' Those Downs : ' Harborough Downs, 



ELEGIES. 31 

13 Those fields, profuse of raiment, food, and fire, 
Thej scorn'd to lessen, careless to extend ; 
Bade Luxury to lavish courts aspire, 

And Avarice to city breasts descend, 

14 None to a virgin's mind preferr'd her dower. 
To sire with vicious hopes a modest heir : 
The sire, in place of titles, wealth, or power, 
Assign'd him virtue ; and his lot was fair. 

1 5 They spoke of Fortune, as some doubtful dame. 
That sway'd the natives of a distant sphere ; 
From Lucre's vagrant sons had learn'd her fame, 
But never wish'd to place her banners here. 

16 Here youth's free spirit, innocently gay, 
Enjoy 'd the most that Innocence can give ; 
Those wholesome sweets that border Virtue's way; 
Those cooling fruits that we may taste, and live. 

1 7 Their board no strange ambiguous viand bore ; 
From their own streams their choicer fare they drew ; 
To lure the scaly glutton to the shore. 

The sole deceit their artless bosom knew ! 

18 Sincere themselves, ah ! too secure to find 
The common bosom, like their own, sincere ! 
'Tis its own guilt alarms the jealous mind ; 
'Tis her own poison bids the viper fear, 

19 Sketched on the lattice of th' adjacent fane, 
Their suppliant busts implore the reader's prayer ; 
Ah, gentle souls ! enjoy your blissful reign. 

And let frail mortals claim your guardian care. 



32 ELEGIES. 

20 For sure, to blissful realms the souls are flown, 
That never flatter'd, injured, censured, strove ; 
The friends of science — music, all their own ; 
Music, the voice of Virtue and of Love ! 

21 The journeying peasant, through the secret shade, 
Heard their soft Ijres engage his listening ear. 
And haplj deem'd some courteous angel play'd : 
No angel play'd — but might with transport hear. 

22 For these the sounds that chase unholy strife ! 
Solve Envy's charm, Ambition's wretch release ! 
Raise him to spurn the radiant ills of life, 

To pity pomp, to be content with peace. 

23 Farewell, pure Spirits ! vain the praise we give, 
The praise you sought from lips angelic flows ; 
Farewell ! the virtues which deserve to live 
Deserve an ampler bliss than life bestows. 

24 Last of his race, Palemon, now no more, 
The modest merit of his line display'd ; 
Then pious Hough, Vigornia's mitre wore — 
Soft sleep the dust of each deserving shade ! 



ELEGIES. 33 



ELEGY XVI. 

HE SUGGESTS THE ADVANTAGE OF BIRTH TO A PERSON OF 
merit; and THE FOLLY OF A SUPERCILIOUSNESS THAT 
IS BUILT UPON THAT SOLE FOUNDATION. 

1 When genius, graced with lineal splendour, glows, 
When title shines, with ambient virtues crown'd, 
Like some fair almond's fiowerj pomp it shows, 
The pride, the perfume, of the regions round. 

2 Then learn, ye Fair ! to soften splendour's rav ; 
Endure the swain, the youth of low degree ; 
Let meekness join'd its temperate beam display ; 
'Tis the mild verdure that endears the tree. 

3 Pity the sandall'd swain, the shepherd's boy; 
He sighs to brighten a neglected name ; 
Foe to the dull applause of vulgar joy. 

He mourns his lot; he wishes, merits fame. 

4 In vain to groves and pathless vales we fly ; 
Ambition there the bowery haunt invades ; 
Fame's awful rays fatigue the courtier's eye, 

But gleam still lovely through the chequer'd shades. 

5 Vainly, to guard from Love's unequal chain. 
Has Fortune rear'd us in the rural grove ; 

Should 's eyes illume the desert plain. 

Even I may wonder, and even I must love. 

c 



34 ELEGIES. 

6 Not unregarded sighs the lowlj hind; 
Though you contemn, the gods respect his vow ; 
Vindictive rage awaits the scornful mind, 

And vengeance, too severe ! the gods allow. 

7 On Sarum's plain I met a wandering fair ; 
The look of sorrow, lovely still, she bore ; 
Loose flow'd the soft redundance of her hair. 
And on her brow a flowery wreath she wore. 

8 Oft stooping as she stray'd, she cull'd the pride 
Of every plain ; she pillaged every grove ! 
The fading chaplet daily she supplied, 

And still her hand some various garland wove. 

9 Erroneous Fancy shaped her wild attire : 

From Bethlem's walls the poor lymphatic stray'd ; 
Seem'd with her air, her accent, to conspire. 
When, as wild Fancy taught her, tlius she said : 

10 " Hear me, dear Youth ! oh, hear an hapless maid. 
Sprung from the scepter'd line of ancient kings ! 
Scorn'd by the world, I ask thy tender aid; 
Thy gentle voice shall whisper kinder things. 

11" The world is frantic — fly the race profane — 
Nor I, nor you, shall its compassion move : 
Come, friendly let us wander and complain ; 
And tell me, Shepherd ! hast thou seen my love "? 

12 " My love is young — but other loves are young; 
And other loves are fair, and so is mine ; 
An air divine discloses whence he sprung ; 
He is my love, who boasts that air divine. 



ELEGIES. 35 

13 "No vulgar Damon robs me of my rest; 
lanthe listens to no vulgar vow ; 

A prince, from gods descended, fires her breast; 
A brilliant crown distinguishes his brow. 

14 " What ! shall I stain the glories of my race, 

More clear, more lovely bright, than Hesper's beam ? 
The porcelain pure M'itli vulgar dirt debase 'i 
Or mix with puddle the pellucid stream ? 

15" See through these veins the sapphire current shine ! 
'Twas Jove's own nectar gave th' ethereal hue : 
Can base plebeian forms contend with mine, 
Display the lovely white, or match the blue ? 

16" The painter strove to trace its azure ray ; 
He changed his colours, and in vain he strove: 
He frown'd — I, smiling, view'd the faint essay : 
Poor youth 1 he little knew it flow'd from Jove. 

17" Pitying his toil, the wondrous truth I told. 
How amorous Jove trepann'd a mortal fair; 
How through the race the generous current roll'd. 
And mocks the poet's art and painter's care. 

18" Yes, from the gods, from earliest Saturn, sprung 
Our sacred race, through demi-gods convey'd. 
And he, allied to Phoebus, ever young, 
My godlike boy ! must wed their duteous maid. 

19 " Oft, when a mortal vow profanes my ear. 
My sire's dread fury murmurs through the sky ; 
And should I yield — his instant rage appears ; 
He darts th' uplifted vengeance — and I die. 



36 ELEGIES. 

20 " Have jou not heard unwonted thunders roll '? 
Have you not seen more horrid lightnings glare ? 
'Twas then a vulgar love ensnared my soul ; 
'Twas then — I hardly 'scaped the fatal snare. 

21 " 'Twas then a peasant pour'd his amorous vow, 
All as I listen'd to his vulgar strain ; — 

Yet such his beauty — would my birth allow, 
Dear were the youth, and blissful were the plain. 

22 " But, oh, I faint ! why wastes my vernal bloom, 
In fruitless searches ever doom'cl to rove 1 

My nightly dreams the toilsome path resume, 
And I shall die — before I find my love. 

23 " When last I slept, methought my ravish'd eye 
On distant heaths his radiant form survey'd ; 
Though night's thick clouds encompass'd all the sky. 
The gems that bound his brow dispell'd the shade. 

24 ''0 how this bosom kindled at the sight ! 

Led by their beams I urged the pleasing chase. 
Till, on a sudden, these withheld their light — 
All, all things envy the sublime embrace. 

25 " But now no more — Behind the distant grove 
Wanders my destined youth, and chides my stay : 
See, see ! he grasps the steel — Forbear, my Love — 
lanthe comes ; thy princess hastes away." 

26 Scornful she spoke, and, heedless of reply. 
The lovely maniac bounded o'er the plain, 
The piteous victim of an angry sky ! 

Ah me ! the victim of her proud disdain. 



ELEGIES. 37 



ELEGY XVII. 

HE INDULGES THE SUGGESTIONS OP SPLEEN. — AN ELEGY 
TO THE WINDS. 



^ole ! namque tibi divCim Pater atque hominum rex, 
Et mulcere dedit mentes et tollere vento. 

Imitation. 

^olus ! to tliee the Sire supreme 

Of gods and men the mighty power bequeath 'd 

To rouse or to assuage the human mind. 



1 Stern Llonarch of the winds ! admit mj praj'^er ; 
Awhile thy fury check, thy storms confine ; 

No trivial blast impels the passive air, 
But brews a tempest in a breast like mine. 

2 What bands of black ideas spread their wings ! 
The peaceful regions of Content invade ! 
With deadly poison taint the crystal springs ! 
With noisome vapom' blast the verdant shade ! 

3 I know their leader, Spleen, and the dread sway 
Of rigid Eurus, his detested sire ; 

Through one my blossoms and my fruits decay ; 
Through one my pleasures and my hopes expire. 

4 Like some pale stripling, when his icy way 
Relenting, yields beneath the noontide beam, 
I stand aghast ; and, chill'd with fear, survey 
How far I 've tempted life's deceitful stream. 



38 ELEGIES. 

5 Where, by remorse impell'd, repulsed bj fears, 
Shall wretched Fancy a retreat explore ? 

She flics the sad presage of coming years, 

And sorrowing dwells on pleasures now no more. 

6 Again with patrons and with friends she roves : 
But friends and patrons never to return ; 

She sees the Nymphs, the Graces, and the Loves, 
But sees them weeping o'er Lucinda's urn. 

7 She visits, Isis ! thy forsaken stream, 
Oh ! ill forsaken for Boeotian air ; 

She deems no flood reflects so bright a beam, 
No reed so verdant, and no flower so fair. 

8 She dreams beneath thy sacred shades were peace, 
Thy bays might even the civil storm repel ; 
Reviews thy social bliss, thy learned ease. 

And with no cheerful accent cries, Farewell ! 

9 Farewell, with whom to these retreats I stray'd. 
By youthful sports, by youthful toils, allied ; 
Joyous we sojourn'd in thy circling shade. 
And wept to find the paths of life divide. 

10 She paints the progress of my rival's vow, 
Sees every muse a partial ear incline. 
Binds with luxuriant bays his favour'd brow, 
Nor yields the refuse of his wrath to mine. 

1 1 She bids tlie flattering mirror, form'd to please, 
Now blast my hope, now vindicate despair ; 
Bids my fond verse the lovesick parley cease, 
Accuse my rigid fate, acquit my fair. 



ELEGIES. 39 

12 Where circliug rocks defend some pathless vale, 
Superfluous mortal ! let me ever rove ; 

Alas ! there Echo will repeat the tale — 
Where shall I find the silent scenes I love ? 

13 Fain would I mourn my luckless fate alone, 
Forbid to please, yet fated to admire ; 
Away, my friends ! my sorrows are my own ! 
Why should I breathe around my sick desire 1 

14 Bear me, ye winds, indulgent to my pains, 
Near some sad ruin's ghastly shade to dwell ! 
There let me fondly eye the rude remains, 
And from the mouldering refuse build my cell ! 

1 5 Genius of Rome ! thy prostrate pomp display ! 
Trace every dismal proof of Fortune's power ; 
Let me the wreck of theatres survey, 

Or pensive sit beneath some noddiug tower. 

1 6 Or where some duct, by rolling seasons worn, 
Convey'd pure streams to Rome's imperial wall, 
Near the wide breach in silence let me mourn, 
Or tune my dirges to the water's fall. 

1 7 Genius of Carthage ! paint thy ruin'd pride ; 
Towers, arches, fanes, in wild confusion strewn ; 
Let banish'd Marius, lowering by thy side, 
Compare thy fickle fortunes with his own. 

18 Ah no ! thou monarch of the storms ! forbear ; 
My trembling nerves abhor thy rude control, 
And scarce a pleasing twilight soothes my care, 
Ere one vast death, like darkness, shocks my soul. 



40 ELEGIES. 

19 Forbear thy rage — on no perennial base 
Is built frail Fear, or Hope's deceitful pile ; 
My pains are fled — ray joy resumes its place, 
Should the sky brighten, or Melissa smile. 



ELEGY XVIII 



HE REPEATS THE SONG OF COLIN, A DISCERNING SHEPHERD, 
LAMENTING THE STATE OF THE WOOLLEN MANUFACTORY. 

Ergo omni studio glaciem ventosque nivales. 
Quo minus est illis curse mortalis egestas, 
Avertes : victumque feres. 

VlRG. 

1 Near Avon's bank, on Arden's flowery plain, 

A tuneful shepherd ^ charm'd the listening wave, 
And sunny CotsoF fondly loved the strain ; 
Yet not a garland crowns the shepherd's grave ! 

2 Oh ! lost Ophelia ! smoothly flow'd the day. 
To feel his music with my flames agree, 

To taste the beauties of his melting lay, 
To taste, and fancy it was dear to thee. 

3 When, for his tomb, with each revolving year, 
I steal the musk-rose from the scented brake, 
I strew my cowslips, and I pay my tear, 

I '11 add the myrtle for Ophelia's sake. 

4 Shivering beneath a leafless thorn he lay. 

When Death's chill rigour seized liis flowing tongue ; 
The more I found his faltering notes decay. 
The more prophetic truth sublimed the song. 

' ' Tuneful shepherd : ' Mr Somerville. 



ELEGIES. 41 

5 " Adieu, mj Flocks ! " he said, " my wonted care. 
By sunny mountain, or by verdant shore ; 

May some more happy hand your fold prepare, 
And may you need your Colin's crook no more ! 

6 " And you, ye Shepherds ! lead my gentle sheep, 
To breezy hills, or leafy shelters lead ; 

But if the sky with showers incessant weep. 
Avoid the putrid moisture of the mead. 

7 " Where the wild thyme perfumes the purpled heath, 
Long loitering, there your fleecy tribes extend — 
But what avail the maxims I bequeath ? 

The fraitless gift of an officious friend ! 

8 " Ah ! what avails the timorous lambs to guard, 
Though nightly cares with daily labours join. 

If foreign sloth obtain the rich reward. 

If Gallia's craft the ponderous fleece purloin ? 

9 " Was it for this, by constant vigils worn, 
I met the terrors of an early grave 1 

For this I led them from the pointed thorn ? 
For this I bathed them in the lucid wave ? 

10 " Ah! heedless Albion ! too benignly prone 
Thy blood to lavish, and thy wealth resign ! 
Shall every other virtue grace thy throne. 
But quick-eyed Prudence never yet be thine 1 

11 " From the fair natives of this peerless hill 
Thou gav'st the sheep that browse Iberian plains ; 
Their plaintive cries the faithless region fill. 
Their fleece adorns an haughty foe's domains. 



42 ELEGIES. 

12 " Ill-fated flocks ! from cliff to cliff tliej stray ; 
Far from their dams, their native guardians, far ! 
Where the soft shepherd, all the livelong day, 
Chaunts his proud mistress to his hoarse guitar. 

13 " But Albion's youth her native fleece despise ; 
Unmoved they hear the pining shepherd's moan ; 
In silky folds each nervous limb disguise, 
Allured by every treasure but their own. 

14 " Oft have I hurried down the rocky steep, 
Anxious to see the wintry tempest drive; 
Preserve, said I, preserve your fleece, my Sheep ! 
Ere long will Phillis, will my love, arrive. 

15 " Ere long she came : ah ! woe is me ! she came, 
Robed in the Gallic loom's extraneous twine ; 
For gifts like these they give their spotless fame, 
Resign their bloom, their innocence resign. 

16 " Will no bright maid, by worth, by titles known. 
Give the rich growth of British hills to Fame ? 
And let her charms, and her example, own 
That Virtue's dress and Beauty's are the same ? 

17 " Will no famed chief support thu^generous maid 'i 
Once more the patriot's arduous path resume ? 
And, comely from his native plains array'd. 
Speak future glory to the British loom "? 

18 " What power unseen my ravish'd fancy fires 1 
I pierce the dreary shade of future days ; 
Sure 'tis the genius of the land inspires. 

To breathe my latest breath in praise. 



ELEGIES. 43 

19 "0 might my breath for praise suffice, 

How gently should my dying limbs repose ! 
might his future glory bless mine eyes, 

My ravish'd eyes ! how calmly would they close ! 

20 " was born to spread the general joy ; 

By virtue rapt, by party uncontroU'd; 
Britons for Britain shall the crook employ ; 
Britons for Britain's glory sliear the fold." 



ELEGY XIX. 

WRITTEN m SPRING, 1743. 

1 Again the labouring hind inverts the soil ; 
Again the merchant ploughs the tumid wave ; 
Another spring renews the soldier's toil, 
And finds me vacant in the rural cave. 

2 As the soft lyre display'd my wonted loves. 
The pensive pleasure and the tender pain, 

The sordid Alpheus hurried through my groves. 
Yet stopp'd to vent the dictates of disdain. 

3 He glanced contemptuous o'er my ruin'd fold ; 
He blamed the graces of my favourite bower ; 
My breast, unsullied by the lust of gold ; 

My time, unlavish'd in pursuit of power. 

4 Yes, Alpheus ! fly the purer paths of Fate ; 
Abjure these scenes, from venal passions free; 
Know, in this grove, I vow'd perpetual hate, 
War, endless war, with lucre and with thee. 



44 ELEGIES. 

5 Here, nobly zealous, in mj youthful hours, 
I dress'd an altar to Thalia's name : 

Here, as I crowu'd the verdant shrine with flowers, 
Soft on my labours stole the smiling dame. 

6 " Damon," she cried, " if, pleased with honest praise, 
Thou court success by virtue or by song, 

Fly the false dictates of the venal race ; 
Fly the gross accents of the venal tongue. 

7 " Swear that no lucre shall thy zeal betray ; 
Swerve not thy foot with fortune's votaries more; 
Brand thou their lives, and brand their lifeless day — " 
The winning phantom urged me, and I swore. 

8 Forth from the rustic altar swift I stray 'd ; 
" Aid my firm purpose, ye celestial Powers ! 
Aid me to quell the sordid breast," I said ; 

And threw my javelin towards their hostile towers. ' 

9 Think not regretful I survey the deed, 
Or added years no more the zeal allow ; 
Still, still observant, to the grove I speed. 
The shrine embellish, and repeat the vow. 

10 Sworn from his cradle Rome's relentless foe. 
Such generous hate the Punic champion ^ bore ; 
Thy lake, Thrasimene ! beheld it glow, 
And Cannse's walls and Trebia's crimson shore. 

1 1 But let grave annals paint the warrior's fame ; 
Fair shine his arms in history enroll'd ; 
Whilst humbler lyres his civil worth proclaim, 
Ilis nobler hate of avarice and gold. 

' A Roman ceremony in declaring war. — - ' Punic champion : ' Hannibal. 



ELEGIES. 45 

1 2 Now Pimic pride its final eve survey'd ; 
Its hosts exhausted, and its fleets on fire : 
Patient the victor's lucid frown obej'd. 
And saw th' unwilling elephants retire. 

13 But when their gold depress'd the yielding scale, 
Their gold in pyramidic plenty piled, 

He saw the unutterable grief prevail ; 
He saw their tears, and in his fury smiled. 

14 " Think not/' he cried, "ye view the smiles of ease, 
Or this firm breast disclaims a patriot's pain ; 

I smile, but from a soul estranged to peace. 
Frantic with grief, delirious with disdain. 

15" But were it cordial, this detested smile. 
Seems it less timely than the grief ye show 1 
Sons of Carthage ! grant me to revile 
The sordid source of your indecent woe. 

16" Why weep ye now '? ye saw with tearless eye 
When your fleet perish'd on the Punic wave : 
Where lurk'd the coward tear, the lazy sigh, 
When Tyre's imperial state commenced a slave 1 

17" 'Tis past — Carthage ! vanquished, honour'd shade 
Go, the mean sorrows of thy sons deplore ; 
Had freedom shared the vow to Fortune paid, 
She ne'er, like Fortune, had forsook thy shore." 

18 He ceased — abash'd the conscious audience hear. 
Their pallid cheeks a crimson blush unfold. 
Yet o'er that virtuous blush distreams a tear. 
And falling, moistens their abandon' d gold. 



46 ELEGIES. 



ELEGY XX. 

HE COMPARES HIS HUMBLE FORTUNE WITH THE DISTRESS 
OF OTHERS ; AND HIS SUBJECTION TO DELIA AYITH 
THE MISERABLE SERVITUDE OF AN AFRICAN SLAVE. 

1 Why droops this heart with fancied woes forlorn 1 
Why sinks my soul beneath this wintry sky 1 
What pensive crowds, by ceaseless labours M'orn, 
What myriads, wish to be as blessed as I ! 

2 What though my roofs, devoid of pomp, arise. 
Nor tempt the proud to quit his destined way 1 
Nor costly art my flowery dales disguise. 
Where only simple friendship deigns to stray ? 

3 See the wild sons of Lapland's chill domain, 
That scoop their couch beneath the drifted snows ! 
How void of hope they ken the frozen plain, 
Where the sharp east for ever, ever blows ! 

4 Slave though I be, to Delia's eyes a slave, 
My Delia's eyes endear the bands I wear ; 
The sigh she causes well becomes the brave, 
The pang she causes 'tis even bliss to bear. 

5 See the poor native quit the Libyan shores, 
Ah ! not in Love's delightful fetters bound ! 
No radiant smile his dying peace restores. 

Nor love, nor fame, nor friendship, heals his wound. 



ELEGIES. 47 

6 Let vacant bards display their boasted woes ; 
Shall I the mockery of grief display 1 

No ; let the Muse his piercing pangs disclose, 
Who bleeds and weeps his sura of life away ! 

7 On the wild beach in mournful guise he stood, 
Ere the shrill boatswain gave the hated sign ; 
He dropp'd a tear unseen into the flood ; 

He stole one secret moment, to repine. 

8 Yet the Muse listen'd to the plaints he made, 
Such moving plaints as Nature could inspire ; 
To me the Muse his tender plea convey'd, 
But smooth'd and suited to the sounding lyre. 

9 " Why am I ravish'd from my native strand ? 
What savdge race protects this impious gain '? 
Shall foreign plagues infest this teeming land, 
And more than seaborn monsters plough the main ? 

10 " Here the dire locusts' horrid swarms prevail ; 
Here the blue asps with livid poison swell ; 
Here the dry dipsa writhes his sinuous mail ; 
Can we not here secure from envy dwell '? 

11 " When the grim Lion urged his cruel chase, 
AVhen the stern Panther sought his midnight prey, 
What fate reserved me for this Christian race 1 ^ 
A race more polish'd, more severe than they! 

12 "Ye prowling Wolves ! pursue my latest cries ; 
Thou hungry Tiger ! leave thy reeking den ; 
Ye sandy Wastes ! in rapid eddies rise ; 

tear me from the whips and scorns of men ! 

^ Spoke by a savage. 



48 ELEGIES. 

13 " Yet in their face superior beauty glows ; 
Are smiles the mien of Rcapine and of Wrong 1 
Yet from their lip the voice of mercy flows. 
And even religion dwells upon their tongue. 

14 " Of blissful haunts they tell, and brighter climes, 
Where gentle maids, convey'd hy Death, repair, 

But stain'd with blood, and crimson'd o'er with crimes, 
Say, shall they merit what they paint so fair 1 

15 " No ; careless, hopeless of those fertile plains. 
Rich by our toils, and by our sorrows gay, 
They ply our labours, and enhance our pains. 
And feign these distant regions to repay. 

16" For them our tusky elephant expires ; 

For them we drain the mine's embowell'd gold ; 
Where rove the brutal nations' wild desires 1 — 
Our limbs are purchased, and our life is sold ! 

17" Yet shores there are, bless'd shores for us remain, 
And favour'd isles, with golden fruitage crown'd, 
Where tufted flowerets paint the verdant plain. 
Where every breeze shall med'cine every wound. 

18" There the stern tyrant that embitters life. 
Shall, vainly suppliant, spread his asking hand ; 
There shall we view the billows' raging strife, 
Aid the kind breast, and waft his boat to land." 



^^AND, 0. 
ELEGIES. 49 



ELEGY XXI. 

TAKING A VIEW OF THE COUNTRY FEOM HIS RETIREMENT. 
HE IS LED TO MEDITATE ON THE CHARACTER OE THE 
ANCIENT BRITONS. WRITTEN AT THE TIME OF A RU- 
MOURED TAX UPON LUXURY, 1746. 

1 Thus Damon suog — What though unknown to praise, 
Umbrageous coverts hide my Muse and me, 

Or mid the rural shepherds flow my days ? 
Amid the rural shepherds, I am free. 

2 To view sleek vassals crowd a stately hall, 
Say, should I grow myself a solemn slave ? 
To find thy tints, Titian ! grace my wall, 
Forego the flowery fields my fortune gave 'i 

3 Lord of my time, my devious path I bend 
Through fringy woodland, or smooth-shaven lawn, 
Or pensile grove, or airy clifi^ ascend. 

And hail the scene by Nature's pencil drawn. 

4 Thanks be to Fate — though nor the racy vine, 
Nor fattening olive, clothe the fields I rove, 
Sequester'd shades and gurgling founts are mine. 
And every sylvan grot the Muses love. 

5 Here if my vista point the mouldering pile, 
Where hood and cowl Devotion's aspect wore, 
I trace the tottering relics with a smile. 

To think the mental bondage is no more. 

D 



50 ELEGIES. 

G Pleased if the glowing landscape wave with corn, 
Or the tall oaks, my country's bulwark, rise ; 
Pleased if mine eye, o'er thousand valleys borne, 
Discern the Cambrian hills support the skies. 

7 And see Plinlimmon ! even the youthful sight 
Scales the proud hill's ethereal cliffs with pain ! 
Such, Caer-Caradoc ! thy stupendous height, 
Whose ample shade obscures th' lernian main. 

8 Bleak, joyless regions ! where, by Science fired. 
Some prying sage his lonely step may bend ; 
There, by the love of novel plants inspired, 
Invidious view the clambering goats ascend. 

9 Yet for those mountains, clad with lasting snow, 
The freeborn Briton left his greenest mead, 
Receding sullen from his mightier foe, 

For here he saw fair Liberty recede. 

1 Then if a chief perform'd a patriot's part, 
Sustain'd her drooping sons, repell'd her foes, 
Above all Persian luxe or Attic art 

The rude majestic monument arose. 

11 Progressive ages caroll'd forth his fame. 

Sires, to his praise, attuned their children's tongue ; 
The hoary Druid fed the generous flame, 
While in such strains the reverend wizard sung : 

12 "Go forth, my Sons ! — for what is vital breath, 
Your gods expell'd, your liberty resign'd ? 

Go forth, my Sons! — for what is instant death 
To souls secure perennial joys to find ? 



ELEGIES. 51 

13 " For scenes there are, unknown to war or pain, 
Where drops the balm that heals a tyrant's wound ; 
Where patriots, bless'd with boundless freedom, reign. 
With misletoe's mysterious garlands crown'd. 

14 " Such are the names that grace your mystic songs ; 
Your solemn woods resound their martial fire ; 
To you, my Sons, the ritual meed belongs, 
If in the cause you vanquish or expire. 

15" Hark ! from the sacred oak, that crowns the groves, 
What awful voice my raptured bosom warms ! 
This is the favour'd moment Heaven approves, 
Sound the shrill trump ; this instant sound, to arms." 

1 6 Theirs was the science of a martial race. 
To shape the lance, or decorate the shield ; 
Even the fair virgin stain'd her native grace 
To give new horrors to the tented field. 

1 7 Now, for some cheek where guilty blushes glow, 
For some false Florimel's impure disguise. 

The listed youth nor War's loud signal know, 
Nor Virtue's call, nor Fame's imperial prize. 

1 8 Then, if soft concord lull'd their fears to sleep, 
Inert and silent slept the manly car. 

But rush'd horrific o'er the fearful steep. 
If Freedom's awful clarion breathed to war. 

19 Now the sleek courtier, indolent and vain, 
Throned in the splendid carriage, glides supine, 
To taint his virtue with a foreign stain, 

Or at a favourite board his faith resign. 



52 ELEGIES. 

20 Leave then, Luxury ! this happy soil ; 
Chase her, Britannia ! to some hostile shore ; 
Or fleece the baneful pest with annual spoil,^ 
And let thy virtuous offspring weep no more. 



ELEGY XXIL 



WEITTEN IN THE YEAR , WHEN THE RIGHTS OF SEPUL- 
TURE WERE SO FREQUENTLY VIOLATED. 

1 Say, gentle Sleep ! that lov'st the gloom of night, 
Parent of dreams ! thou great Magician ! say, 
Whence my late vision thus endures the light, 
Thus haunts my fancy through the glare of day 1 

2 The silent moon had scaled the vaulted skies, 
And anxious Care resign'd my limbs to rest ; 
A sudden lustre struck my wondering eyes, 
And Silvia stood before my couch confest. 

3 Ah ! not the nymph so blooming and so gay, 
That led the dance beneath the festive shade, 
But she that, in the morning of her day, 
Entomb'd beneath the grass-green sod was laid. 

4 No more her eyes their wonted radiance cast. 
No more her breast inspired the lover's flame ; 
No more her cheek the Passtan rose surpass'd, 
Yet seem'd her lip's ethereal smile the same. 

' Alludes to a tax upon luxury, then in debate. 



ELEGIES. 63 

5 Nor such her liair as deck'd the living face, 

Nor such her voice as charm'd the listening crowd ; 
Nor such her dress as heighten'd every grace ; 
Alas ! all vanish'd for the mournful shroud ! 

6 Yet seem'd her lip's ethereal charm the same ; 
That dear distinction every doubt removed ; 
Perish the lover, whose imperfect flame 
Forgets one feature of the nymph he loved ! 

7 " Damon," she said, " mine hour allotted flies ; 
Oh ! do not waste it with a fruitless tear ! 
Thougli grieved to see thy Sylvia's pale disguise, 
Suspend thy sorrow, and attentive hear. 

8 " So may thy Muse with virtuous fame be blest ! 
So be thy love with mutual love repaid ! 

So may thy bones in sacred silence rest ! 
Fast by the relics of some happier maid ! 

9 " Thou know'st how, lingering on a distant shore, 
Disease invidious nipt my flowery prime; 

And, oh, what pangs my tender bosom tore. 
To think I ne'er must view my native clime ! 

10 "No friend was near to raise my drooping head; 
No dear companion wept to see me die ; 
Lodge me within my native soil, I said, 
There my fond parents' honour'd relics lie. 

11" Though now debarred of each domestic tear, 
Unknown, forgot, I meet the fatal blow; 
There many a friend shall grace my woful bier, 
And many a sigh shall rise, and tear shall flow. 



54 ELEGIES. 

12 "I spoke, nor Fate forbore his trembling spoil ; 
Some venal mourner lent his careless aid, 
And soon they bore me to my native soil. 
Where my fond parents' dear remains were laid. 

13 " 'Twas then the youths, from every plain and grove, 
Adorn'd with mournful verse thy Sylvia's bier ; 
'Twas then the nymphs their votive garlands wove. 
And strew'd the fragrance of the youthful year. 

14 But why, alas ! the tender scene display ? 
Could Damon's foot the pious path decline 1 
Ah, no ! 'twas Damon first attuned his lay, 
And sure no sonnet was so dear as thine. 

15 "Thus was I bosom'd in the peaceful grave ; 
My placid ghost no longer wept its doom ; 
When savage robbers every sanction brave. 
And with outrageous guilt defraud the tomb ! 

16 " Shall my poor corse, from hostile realms conveyed, 
Lose the cheap portion of my native sands 1 

Or, in my kindred's dear embraces laid. 
Mourn the vile ravage of barbarian hands '? 

17" Say, would thy breast no death-like torture feel, 
To see my limbs the felon's gripe obey *? 
To see them gash'd beneath the daring steel ? 
To crowds a spectre, and to dogs a prey 1 

18 "If Psean's sons these horrid rites require, 
If Health's fair science be by these refined, 
Let guilty convicts, for their use, expire. 
And let their breathless corse avail mankind. 



ELEGIES. 55 

1 .9 " Yet hard it seems, when Guilt's last fine is paid, 
To see the victim's corse denied repose ; 
Now, more severe, the poor ofi'enceless maid 
Dreads the dire outrage of inhuman foes. 

20 " Where is the faith of ancient Pagans fled ? 
Where the fond care the wand'ring Manes claim ? 
Nature, instinctive, cries, Protect the dead. 

And sacred be their ashes, and their fame ! 

21 " Arise, dear Youth ! even now the danger calls ; 
Even now the villain snuffs his wonted prej ; 
See ! see ! I lead thee to yon sacred walls — 

Oh ! flj to chase these human wolves away." 



ELEGY XXIII. 

REFLECTIONS SUGGESTED BY HIS SITUATION. 

1 Born near the scene for Kenelm's fate ^ renown'd, 
I take my plaintive reed, and range the grove, 
And raise my lay, and bid the rocks resound 
The savage force of empire, and of love. 

2 Fast by the centre of yon various wild, 
Where spreading oaks embower a Gothic fane, 
Kendria's arts a brother's youth beguiled ; 
There nature ujged her tenderest pleas in vain. 

• ' Kenelm's fate : ' Kenelm, in the Saxon heptarchy, was heir to the King- 
dom of Mercia •, but being very young at his father's death, was, by the arti- 
fices of his sister and her lover, deprived of his crown and life together. The 
body was found in a piece of ground near the top of Clent hill, exactly facing 
Mr Shenstone's house, near which place a church was afterwards erected to 
his memory, still used for divine worship, and called St Kenelm's. 



56 ELEGIES. 

Soft o'er his birth, and o'er his infant hours, 
The ambitious maid could every care employ ; 
Then with assiduous fondness crept the flowers, 
To deck the cradle of tlie princely boy. 

4 But soon the bosom's pleasing calm is flown ; 
Love fires her breast ; the sultry passions rise ; 
A favour'd lover seeks the Mercian throne. 
And views her Kenelm with a rival's eyes. 

5 How kind were Fortune ! ah, how just were Fate ! 
Would Fate or Fortune Mercia's heir remove ! 
How sweet to revel on the couch of state ! 

To crown at once her lover and her love ! 

6 See, garnish'd for the chase, the fraudful maid 
To these lone hills direct his devious way ; 
The youth, all prone, the sister-guide obey'd ; 
Ill-fated youth ! himself the destined prey ! 

7 But now, nor shaggy hill, nor pathless plain. 
Forms the lone refuge of the sylvan game, 
Since Lyttleton has crown'd the sweet domain 
With softer pleasures, and with fairer fame. 

8 Where the rough bowman urged his headlong steed, 
Immortal bards, a polish'd race, retire ; 

And where hoarse scream'd the strepent horn, succeed 
The melting graces of no vulgar lyre. 

9 See Thomson, loitering near some limpid well, 
For Britain's friend the verdant wreath prepare ! 
Or, studious of revolving seasons, tell 

How peerless Lucia made all seasons fair ! 



ELEGIES. 57 

10 See from civic garlands flj, 

And in those groves indulge his tuneful vein ! 
Or from jon summit, with a guardian's eye, 
Observe how Freedom's hand attires the plain ! 

1 1 Here Pope ! — ah ! never must that towering mind 
To his loved haunts, or dearer friend return ! 
What art, what friendships! oh, what fame resign'd! 
— In yonder glade I trace his mournful urn. 

12 Where is the breast can rage or hate retain. 

And these glad streams and smiling lawns behold "? 
Where is the breast can hear the woodland strain, 
And think fair Freedom well exchanged for gold 1 

13 Through these soft shades delighted let me stray, 
While o'er my head forgotten suns descend ! 
Through these dear valleys bend my casual way, 
Till setting life a total shade extend ! 

14 Here, far from courts, and void of pompous cares, 
I '11 muse how much I owe mine humbler fate, 
Or shrink to find how much Ambition dares, 

To shine in anguish, and to grieve in state ! 

15 Canst thou, Sun ! that spotless throne disclose, 
Where her bold arm has left no sanguine stain '? 
W^here, show me where, the lineal sceptre glows, 
Pure as the simple crook that rules the plain ! 

1 6* Tremendous pomp ! where hate, distrust, and fear, 
In kindred bosoms solve the social tie ; 
There not the parent's smile is half sincere. 
Nor void of art the consort's melting eye. 



58 ELEGIES. 

1 7 There, with the friendly wish, the kiudly flame, 
No face is brighteu'd, and no bosoms beat ; 
Youth, maiiliood, age, avow one sordid aim. 
And even the beardless lip essays deceit. 

1 8 There coward Rumours walk their murderous round ; 
The glance, that more than rural blame instils ; 
Whispers that, tinged with friendship, doubly wound ; 
Pity that injures, and concern that kills. 

19 There anger whets, but love can ne'er engage ; 
Caressing brothers part but to revile ; 

There all men smile, and Prudence warns the wise 
To dread the fatal stroke of all that smile. 

20 There all are rivals ! sister, son, and sire, 
With horrid purpose hug destructive arms ; 
There soft-eyed maids in murderous plots conspire, 
And scorn the gentler mischief of their charms. 

21 Let servile minds one endless watch endure; 
Day, night, nor hour, their anxious guard resign ; 
But lay me, Fate ! on flowery banks secure. 
Though my whole soul be, like my limbs, supine. 

22 Yes ; may my tongue disdain a vassal's care ; 
My lyre resound no prostituted lay ; 

More warm to merit, more elate to wear 
The cap of Freedom than the crown of bay. 

23 Soothed by the murmurs of my pebbled flood, 
I wish it not o'er golden sands to flow ; 
Cheer'd by the verdure of my spiral wood, 

I scorn the quarry, where no shrub can grow. 



ELEGIES, 59 

24 No midnight pangs the shepherd's peace pursue ; 
His tongue, his hand, attempts no secret wound; 
He sings his Delia, and, if she be true, 
His love at once, and his ambition 's crown'd. 



ELEGY XXIV. 



HE TAKES OCCASIOIT, FROM THE FATE OF ELEANOR OF 
BRETAGNE,! TO SUGGEST THE IMPERFECT PLEASURES 
OF A SOLITARY LIFE. 

1 When Beauty mourns, by Fate's injurious doom, 
Hid from the cheerful glance of human eye. 
When Nature's pride inglorious waits the tomb, 
Hard is that heart which checks the rising sigh. 

2 Fair Eleonora ! would no gallant mind. 

The cause of Love, the cause of Justice, own 1 
Matchless thy charms, and was no life resigned 
To see them sparkle from their native throne 1 

3 Or had fair Freedom's hand unveil'd thy charms, 
Well might such brows the regal gem resign ; 
Thy radiant mien might scorn the guilt of arms, 
Yet Albion's awful empire yield to thine. 



* ' Eleanor of Bretagne : ' the lawful heiress of the English crown, upon 
the death of Arthur, in the reign of King John. She was esteemed the beauty 
of her time ; was imprisoned forty years (till the time of her death) in Bristol 
castle. 



60 ELEGIES. 

4 shame of Britons ! in one sullen tower 
She wet with royal tears her daily cell ; 
She found keen anguish every rose devour ; 

They sprung, they shone, they faded, and they fell. 

5 Through one dim lattice, fringed with ivy round. 
Successive suns a languid radiance threw, 

To paint how fierce her angry guardian frown'd, 
To mark how fast her waning beauty flew. 

6 This, age might bear; then sated Fancy palls. 
Nor warmly hopes what splendour can supply ; 
Fond Youth incessant mourns, if rigid walls 
Restrain its listening ear, its curious eye. 

7 Believe me the pretence is vain ! 

This boasted calm that smooths our early day ; 
For never yet could youthful mind restrain 
The alternate pant for pleasure and for praise, 

8 Even me, by shady oak or limpid spring. 
Even me, the scenes of polish'd life allure ! 
Some genius whispers, " Life is on the wing, 
And hard his lot that languishes obscure. 



^O' 



9 " What though thy riper mind admire no more — 
The shining cincture, and the broider'd fold, 
Can pierce like lightning through the figured ore, 
And melt to dross the radiant forms of gold. 

10" Furs, ermines, rods, may well attract thy scorn. 
The futile presents of capricious Power ! 
But wit, but worth, the public sphere adorn, 
And who but envies then the social hour 1 



ELEGIES. 61 

11 " Can Virtue, careless of her pupil's meed, 

Forget how sustains the shepherd's cause 1 

Content in shades to tune a lonely reed, 

Nor join the sounding pgean of applause 1 

12 " For public haunts, impell'd by Britain's weal. 
See Grenyille quit the Muse's favourite ease; 
And shall not swains admire his noble zeal 1 
Admiring praise, admiring strive to please 'i 

13 " Life," says the sage, " affords no bliss sincere, 
And courts and cells in vain our hopes reuew : 
But, ah ! where Grenville charms the listening ear, 
'Tis hard to think the cheerless maxim true. 

14 " The groves may smile ; the rivers gently glide ; 
Soft through the vale resound the lonesome lay; 
Even thickets yield delight, if taste preside. 

But can they please, when Lyttleton 's away 1 

15 " Pure as the swain's the breast of glows ; 

Ah ! were the shepherd's phrase, like his, refined ! 
But, how improved the generous dictate flows 
Through the clear medium of a polish'd mind ! 

16 " Happy the youths who, warm with Britain's love. 
Her inmost wish in ^periods hear ! 

Happy that in the radiant circle move, 
Attendant orbs, where Lonsdale gilds the sphere ! 

17" While rural faith, and every polish'd art. 

Each friendly charm, in conspire. 

From public scenes all pensive must you part ; 
All joyless to the greenest fields retire ! 



62 ELEGIES. 

18 " Go, plaintive Youth ! no more bj fount or stream, 
Like some lone halcyon, social pleasures shun ; 
Go, dare the light, enjoy its cheerful beam, 
And hail the bright procession of the sun. 

19" Then, cover'd by thy ripen'd shades, resume 
The silent walk, no more by passion tost ; 
Then seek thy rustic haunts, the dreary gloom, 
Where every art, that colours life, is lost." 

20 In vain ! the listening Muse attends in vain ! 
Restraints in hostile bands her motions wait — 
Yet will I grieve, and sadden all my strain, 
When injured Beauty mourns the Muse's fate. 



ELEGY XXV. 



TO DELIA, WITH SOME FLOWEKS ; COMPLAINING HOW 
MUCH HIS BENEVOLENCE SUFFERS ON ACCOUNT OP 
HIS HUMBLE FOKTUNE. 

1 Whatever could Sculpture's curious art employ, 
Whatever the lavish l^and of Wealth can shower. 
These would I give — and every gift enjoy, 

That pleased my fair — but Fate denies the power. 

2 Bless'd were my lot to feed the social fires ! 
To learn the latent wishes of a friend ! 

To give the boon his native taste admires, 
And, for my transport, on his smile depend ! 



ELEGIES. 63 

3 Bless'd, too, is he whose evening ramble strays 
Where droop the sons of Indigence and Care ! 
His little gifts their gladden'd eyes amaze, 

And win, at small expence, their fondest prayer ! 

4 And, oh ! the joy, to shun the conscious light ; 
To spare the modest blusli ; to give unseen ! 
Like showers that fall behind the veil of night, 
Yet deeply tinge the smiling vales with green. 

5 But happiest they who drooping realms relieve ! 
Whose virtues in our cultured vales appear ! 
For whose sad fate a thousand shepherds grieve, 
And fading fields allow the grief sincere. 

6 To call lost Worth from its oppressive shade, 
To fix its equal sphere, and see it shine, 

To hear it grateful own the generous aid : 
This, this is transport — but must ne'er be mine. 

7 Faint is my bounded bliss ; nor I refuse 
To range where daisies open, rivers roll, 
While prose or song the languid hours amuse, 
And sooth the fond impatience of my soul. 

8 Awhile I'll weave the roofs of jasmine bowers, 
And urge with trivial cares the loitering year ; 
Awhile I '11 prune my grove, protect my flowers, 
Then, unlamented, press an early bier ! 

9 Of those loved flowers the lifeless corse may share. 
Some hireling hand a fading wreath bestow ; 
The rest will breathe as sweet, will glow as fair, 
As when their master smiled to see them glow. 



64 ELEGIES. 

10 The sequent nioru shall wake the sylvan quii'e ; 
The kid again shall wanton ere 'tis noon ; 
Nature will smile, wiU wear her best attire ; 

let not gentle Delia smile so soon ! 

11 While the rude hearse conveys me slow away, 
And careless eyes my vulgar fate proclaim, 
Let thy kind tear my utmost worth o'erpay, 
And, softly sighing, vindicate my fame. — 

12 Delia ! cheer'd by thy superior praise, 

1 bless the silent path the Fates decree ; 
Pleased, from the list of my inglorious days, 

To raise the moments crown'd with bliss and thee. 



ELEGY XXVI. 



DESCRIBING THE SORROW OF AN INGENUOUS MIND ON 
THE MELANCHOLY EVENT OF A LICENTIOUS AMOUR. 

1 Why mourns my friend ? why weeps his downcast eye, 
That eye where mu'th, where fancy, used to shine ? 
Thy cheerful meads reprove that swelling sigh ; 
Spring ne'er enamell'd fairer meads than thine. 

2 Art thou not lodged in Fortune's warm embrace I 
AVert thou not form'd by Nature's partial care ? 
Bless'd in thy song, and bless'd in every grace 
That wins the friend, or that enchants the fair ? 



ELEGIES. 65 

3 " Damon,"' said he, '• thj partial praise restrain ; 
Not Damon's friendship can mj peace restore : 
Alas ! his verj praise awakes mj pain, 

And mj poor wounded bosom bleeds the more. 

4 '' For, that Nature on mj birth had frown d, 
Or Fortune fix'd me to some lowlj cell ! 

Then had my bosom 'scaped this fatal wound, 
Nor had I bid these vernal sweets farewell. 

5 " But, led bj Fortune's hand, her darling child, 
Mj youth her vain licentious bliss admired ; 

In Fortune's train the svren Flattery smiled, 
And rashly hallow'd all her queen inspired. 

6 " Of folly studious, even of vic^s vain, 
Ah, vices gilded by the rich and gay ! 

I chased the guileless daughters of the plain, 
Nor dropp'd the chase till Jessy was my prey. 

7 " Poor artless maid ! to stain thy spotless name, 
Expense, and Art, and Toil united strove ; 

To lure a breast that felt the purest flame, 
Sustain'd by Virtue, but betray'd by Love. 

8 " School'd in the science of Love's mazy wiles, 
I clothed each feature with affected scorn; 

I spoke of jealous doubts, and fickle smiles. 
And, feigning, left her anxious and forlorn. 

9 " Then while the fancied rage alarm'd her care. 
Warm to deny, and zealous to disprove, 

I bade my words the wonted softness wear, 
And seized the minute of returning love. 

£ 



66 ELEGIES. 

10 "To thee, my Damon, dare I paint the rest ? 
Will yet thy love a candid ear incline ? 
Assured that virtue, by misfortune press'd, 
Feels not the sharpness of a pang like mine. 

11" Nine envious moons matured her growing shame, 
Erewhile to flaunt it in the face of day, 
When scorn'd of Virtue, stigmatized by Fame, 
Low at my feet desponding Jessy lay, 

12 " ' Henry,' she said, 'by thy dear form subdued, 
See the sad relics of a nymph undone ! 

I find, I find this rising sob renew'd ; 
I sigh in shades, and sicken at the sun. 

13 " ' Amid the dreary gloom of night, I cry, 

When will the morn's once pleasing scenes return ? 

Yet what can morn's returning ray supply, 

But foes that triumph, or but friends that mourn 1 

14 " ' Alas ! no more that joyous morn appears 
That led the tranquil hours of spotless fame, 
For I have steep'd a father's couch in tears, 

And tinged a mother's glowing cheek with shame. 

15"' The vocal birds that raise their matin strain, 
The sportive lambs, increase my pensive moan ; 
All seem to chase me from the cheerful plain, 
And talk of truth and innocence alone. 

16 " ' If through the garden's flowery tribes I stray. 
Where bloom the jasmines that could once allure, 
" Hope not to find delight in us," they say, 
" For we are spotless, Jessy ; we are pure." 



ELEGIES. 67 

17"' Ye flowers ! that well reproach a njmph so frail, 
Saj", could you with my virgin fame compare ? 
The brightest bud that scents the vernal gale 
Was not so fragrant, and was not so fair. 

18 " ' Now the grave old alarm the gentler young, 
And all my fame's abhorr'd contagion flee ; 
Trembles each lip, and falters every tongue, 
That bids the morn propitious smile on me. 

19"' Thus for your sake I shun each human eye, 
I bid the sweets of blooming youth adieu : 
To die I languish, but I dread to die. 
Lest my sad fate should nourish pangs for you. 

20 " ' Raise me from earth ; the pains of want remove. 
And let me, silent, seek some friendly shore ; 
There only, banish'd from the form I love, 

My weeping virtue shall relapse no more. 

21 " ' Be but my friend ; I ask no dearer name ; 
Be such the meed of some more artful fair ; 
Nor could it heal my peace, or chase my shame. 
That Pity gave what Love refused to share. 

22 " ' Force not my tongue to ask its scanty bread, 
Nor hurl thy Jessy to the vulgar crew ; 

Not such the parent's board at which I fed ! 
Not such the precepts from his lips I drew ! 

23 " ' Haply, when age has silver'd o'er my hair. 
Malice may learn to scorn so mean a spoil ; 
Envy may slight a face no longer fair. 

And Pity welcome to my native soil.' 



68 ELEGIES. 

24 " She spoke — nor was I born of savage race, 
Nor could these hands a niggard boon assign ; 
Grateful she clasp'd me iu a last embrace, 

And vow'd to waste her life in prayers for mine. 

25 " I saw her foot the lofty bark ascend, 

1 saw her breast with every passion heave ; 
I left her — torn from every earthly friend; 
Oh, my hard bosom 1 which could bear to leave ! 

26 " Brief let me be : the fatal storm arose ; 
The billows rage'd, the pilot's art was vam ; 
O'er the tall mast the circling surges close ; 
My Jessy — floats upon the watery plain ! 

27 " And — see my youth's impetuous fires decay: 
Seek not to stop Reflection's bitter tear ; 

But warn the frolic, and instruct the gay, 
From Jessy floating on her watery bier." 



LEVITIES; 



OB, 



PIECES OE HUMOUR 



FLIRT AND PHIL. 

A DECISION FOR THE LADIES. 

1 A WIT, by learning well refined, 
A beau, but of the rural kind, 

To Silvia made pretences ; 
They both profess'd an equal love, 
Yet hoped by different means to move 

Her judgment or her senses. 

2 Young sprightly Flirt, of blooming mien, 
Watch'd the best minutes to be seen. 

Went — when his glass advised him ; 
While meagre Phil of books inquired, 
A wight for wit and parts admired, 

And witty ladies prized him. 

'A Silvia had wit, had spirits too ; 
To hear the one, the other view, 
Suspended held the scales ; 



LEVITIES ; OR, PIECES OF HUMOUR. 

Her wit, her youth too, claim'd its share ; 
Let none the preference declare, 
But turn up — heads or tails. 



STANZAS. 

TO THE MEMORY OF AN AGREEABLE LADY, BURIED IN 
MARRIAGE TO A PERSON UNDESERVING HER. 

1 Twas always held, and ever will, 

By sage mankind, discreeter 
To anticipate a lesser ill 
Than undergo a greater. 

2 When mortals dread diseases, pain. 

And languishing conditions, 

Who don't the lesser ills sustain 

Of physic — and physicians ? 

3 Rather than lose his whole estate, 

He that but little wise is, 
Full gladly pays four parts in eight. 
To taxes and excises. 

4 Our merchants Spain has near undone, 

For lost ships not requiting ; 
This bears our noble King to shun 
The loss of blood — in fighting ! 

5 With numerous ills, in single life, 

The bachelor 's attended ; 
Such to avoid, he takes a wife — 
And much the case is mended ! 



LE7ITIES ; OR, PIECES OF HUMOUR. 71 

6 Poor Gratia, in ber twentieth year, 
Foreseeing future woe, 
Chose to attend a monkey here, 
Before an ape below. 



COLEMIRA. 

A CULINARY ECLOGUE. 

Nee tantum Yeueris, quantum studiosa culinse. 

Imitation. 
Insensible of soft desire, 
Behold Colemira prove 
More partial to the kitchen fire 
Than to the fire of Love. 

1 Night's sable clouds had half the globe o'erspread, 
And silence reign'd, and folks were gone to bed; 
When love, which gentle sleep can ne'er inspire. 
Had seated Damon by the kitchen fire. 

2 Pensive he lay, extended on the ground, 
The little Lares kept their vigils round ; 
The fawning cats compassionate his case, 
And purr around, and gently lick his face : 

3 To all his plaints the sleeping curs reply, 
And with hoarse snorings imitate a sigh : 
Such gloomy scenes with lovers' minds agree. 
And soHtude to them is best society. 

4 " Could I," he cried, " express how bright a grace 
Adorns thy morning hands, and well-wash'd face, 
Thou wouldst, Colemira, grant what I implore, 
And yield me love, or wash thy face no more. 



72 LEVITIES ; OR, PIECES OF HUMOUR. 

5 " Ah ! who can see, aud seeing not admire, 
Whene'er she sets the pot upon the fire 1 

Her hands outshine the fire and redder things ; 
Her eyes are Uacker than the pot she brings. 

6 " But sure no chamber-damsel can compare, 
When in meridian histre shines my fair. 
When warm'd with dinner's toil, in pearly rills, 
Adown her goodly cheeks the sweat distils. 

7 " Oh ! how I long, how ardently desire, 
To view those rosy fingers strike the lyre ! 

For late, when bees to change their climes began, 
How did I see them thrum the frying-pan ! 

8 " With her I should not envy George his queen. 
Though she in royal grandeur deck'd be seen ; 
Whilst rags, just sever'd from my fair one's gown, 

. In russet pomp and greasy pride hang down. 

9 " Ah ! how it does my drooping heart rejoice. 
When in the hall I hear thy mellow voice ! 
How would that voice exceed the village bell, 
Wouldst thou but sing, ' I like thee passing well ! ' 

10 " When from the hearth she bade the pointers go. 
How soft, how easy, did her accents flow ! 
' Get out,' she cried : ' when strangers come to sup. 
One ne'er can raise those snoring devils up.' 

11" Then, full of wrath, she kick'd each lazy brute ; 
Alas ! I envied even that salute : 
'Twas sure misplaced — Shock said, or seem'd to say, 
He had as lief I had the kick, as they. 



LEVITIES ; OR, PIECES OF HUMOUR. 73 

12 "If she the mjstic bellows take in hand, 
Who like the fair can that machine command 1 

majst thoti ne'er by ^olus be seen. 

For he would sure demand thee for his queen ! 

13 " But should the flame this rougher aid refuse, 
And only gentler medicines be of use, 

With full-blown cheeks she ends the doubtful strife. 
Foments the infant flame, and puffs it into life. 

14" Such arts as these exalt the drooping fire, 
But in my breast a fiercer flame inspire : 

1 burn ! I burn ! give thy puffing o'er, 

And swell thy cheeks, and pout thy lips, no more ! 

15 " With all her haughty looks, the time I 've seen 
When this proud damsel has more humble been, 
When with nice airs she hoist the pancake round, 
And dropt it, hapless fair ! upon the ground. 

16" Look, with what charming grace, what winning tricks, 
The artful charmer rubs the candlesticks : 
So bright she makes the candlesticks she handles, 
Oft have I said — there were no need of candles. 

17" But thou, my fair ! who never wouldst approve, 
Or hear the tender story of my love, 
Or mind how burns my raging breast — a button — 
Perhaps art dreaming of — a breast of mutton."" 

18 Thus said, and wept, the sad desponding swahi, 
Revealing to the sable walls his pain : 
But nymphs are free with those they should deny ; 
To those they love, more exquisitely coy. 



74 LEVITIES ; OR, PIECES OF HUMOUR. 

19 Now chirping crickets raise their tinkling voice, 
The lambent flames in languid streams arise, 
And smoke, in azure folds, evaporates and dies. 



ON CERTAIN PASTORALS. 

So nide and tuneless are thj lays. 

The weary audience vow 
Tis not th' Arcadian swain that sings, 

But 'tis his herds that low. 



ON MR C- 



OF KIDDERMINSTEE S POETRY, 

Thy verses, friend ! are Kidderminster stuflp, 
And I must own you've measured out enough. 



TO THE VIRTUOSI. 

1 Hail, curious Wights ! to whom so fair 

The form of mortal flies is ! 
Who deem those grubs beyond compare 
Which common sense despises. 

2 Whether o'er hill, morafss, or mound, 

You make your sportsman sallies, 

Or that your prey, in gardens found, 

Is urged through walks and alleys. 



LEVITIES ; OR, PIECES OF HUMOUE. 75 

3 Yet, in the furj of the chase, 

No slope could e'er retard jou ; 
Blest if one fly repay the race, 
Or painted wing reward jou. 

4 Fierce as Camilla o'er the plain 

Pursued the glittering stranger ; 

Still eyed the purple's pleasing stain, 

And knew not fear nor danger. 

5 'Tis you dispense the favourite meat 

To Nature's filmy people ; 
Know what conserves they choose to eat, 
And what liqueurs to tipple. 

6 And if her brood of insects dies, 

You sage assistance lend her ; 
Can stoop to pimp for amorous flies. 
And help them to engender. 

7 'Tis you protect their pregnant hour ; 

And, when the birth 's at hand. 
Exerting your obstetric power, 
J^revent a mothless land. 

8 Yet, oh ! howe'er your towering view 

Above gross objects rises, 
Whate'er refinements you pursue. 
Hear what a friend advises : 

9 A friend, who, weigh'd with yours, must prize 

Domitian's idle passion, 
That wrought the death of teasing flies, 
But ne'er their propagation. 



76 LEVITIES ; OR, PIECES OF HUMOUR. 

10 Let Flavia's ejes more deeply warm, 

Nor thus jour hearts determine, 
To slight l)ame Nature's fairest form, 
And sigh for Nature's vermin. 

1 1 And speak with some respect of beaus, 

Nor more as triflers treat them ; 
'Tis better learn to save one's clothes, 
Than cherish moths that eat them. 



THE EXTENT OF COOKERY. 

Aliusque et idem. 

1 When Tom to Cambridge first was sent, 

A plain brown bob he wore ; 
Read much, and look'd as though he meant 
To be a fop no more. 

2 See him to Lincoln's-Inn repair. 

His resolution flag; 
He cherishes a length of hair, 

And tucks it in a bag. ^ 

3 Nor Coke nor Salkcld he regards, 

But gets into the House, 
And soon a judge's rank rewards 
His pliant votes and bows. 

4 Adieu, ye bobs ! ye bags ! give place ; 

Full bottoms come instead ; 
Good L — d! to see the various ways 
Of dressing — a calf's head ! 



LEVITIES ; OR, PIECES OF HUMOUR. 77 

SLENDER'S GHOST. 

VIDE SHAKSPEARE. 

1 Beneath a cliurchjard jew, 

Decaj'd and worn witli age, 
At dusk of eve metbouglit I spied 
Poor Blender's Ghost, that whimpering cried, 

"0 sweet ! sweet Anne Page !" 

2 Ye gentle Bards ! give ear. 

Who talk of amorous rage, 
' Who spoil the lilj, rob the rose, 
Come learn of me to weep your woes : 
" sweet ! sweet Anne Page ! " 

3 Why should such labour'd strains 

Your formal Muse engage 1 
I never dreamt of flame or dart, 
That fired my breast or pierced my heart. 

But sigh'd, "0 sweet Anne Page!" 

4 And you ! whose lovesick minds 

No med'cine can assuage. 
Accuse the leech's art no more, 
But learn of Slender to deplore ; 

" sweet ! sweet Anne Page ! " 

5 And ye ! whose souls are held. 

Like linnets in a cage ; 
Who talk of fetters, links, and chains, 
Attend and imitate my strains; 

" sweet ! sweet Anne Page !" 



78 levities; or, pieces of humour. 

6 And you ! who boast or grieve, 

What horrid wars ye wage. 
Of wounds received from many an eye. 
Yet mean as I do, when I sigh, 

" sweet ! sweet Anne Page ! " 

7 Hence every fond conceit 

Of shepherd or of sage ; 
'Tis Slender's voice, 'tis Slender's way. 
Expresses all you have to say, 

" sweet ! sweet Anne Page ! " 



THE PROGRESS OF ADVICE. 

A COMMON CASE. 

Suade, nam certum est. 

1 Says Richard to Thomas (and seem'd half afraid) 
" I 'm thinking to marry thy mistress's maid ; 
Now, because Mrs Lucy to thee is well known, 

I will do 't if thou bidst me, or let it alone. 

2 " Nay, don't make a jest on 't ; 'tis no jest to me ; 
For faith I 'm in earnest, so prithee, be free. 

I have no fault to fiud with the girl since I knew her, 
But I 'd have thy advice ere I tie myself to her." 

3 Said Thomas to Richard, " To speak my opinion, 
There is not such a bitch in King George's dominion ; 
And I firmly beheve, if thou knew'st her as I do, 
Thouwouldst choose out a whipping-post first to be tied to. 



LEVITIES ; OE, PIECES OF HUMOUR. 79 

" She 's peevish, she 's thievish, she 's ugly, she 's old, 
And a liar, and a fool, and a slut, and a scold." 
Next day Richard hasten'd to church and was wed. 
And ere night had inform'd her what Thomas had said. 



THE INVIDIOUS. 

MAETIAL. 



Fortune ! if my prayer of old 

Was ne'er solicitous for gold. 

With better grace thou may'st allow 

My suppliant wish, that asks it now: 

Yet think not. Goddess! I require it 

For the same end your clowns desire it. 

In a well made effectual string 

Fain would I see Lovidio swing; 

Hear him, from Tyburn's height haranguing; 

But such a cur 's not worth one's hanging. 

Give me, Goddess ! store of pelf, 

And he will tie the knot himself 



THE PRICE OF AN EQUIPAGE. 

Servum si potes, Ole, non habere, 
Et regem potes, Ole, non habere. 

Mart. 

I ask'd a friend, amidst the throng, 
Whose coach it was that trail'd along ? 
" The gilded coach there — don't ye mind ^ 
That with the footmen stuck behind." 



80 LEVITIES ; OR, PIECES OF HUMOUR. 

" Sir !" says he, " what! han't you seen it ? 
'Tis Damon's Coach, and Damon in it. 
'Tis odd, mcthinks, you have forgot 
Your friend, your neiglibour, and — what not ! 
Your old acquaintance Damon ! " — " True ; 
But faith his Equipage is new." 

" Bless me," said I, " where can it end 1 
What madness has possess'd my friend ? 
Four powder'd slaves, and those the tallest, 
Their stomachs, doubtless, not the smallest! 
Can Damon's revenue maintain. 
In lace and food, so large a train *? 
1 know his land — each inch of ground — 
'Tis not a mile to walk it round — 
If Damon's whole estate can bear 
To keep his lad and one-horse chair, 
I own 'tis past my comprehension." 
" Yes, Sir ; but Damon has a pension." 

Thus does a false ambition rule us, 
Thus pomp delude, and folly fool us ; 
To keep a race of flickering knaves. 
He grows himself the worst of slaves. 



INSCRIPTION. 



To the memory of 

A. L., Esquire, 

Justice of the Peace for this county : 

AVho, in the whole course of his pilgrimage 

Through a trifling ridiculous world, 

Maintaining his proper dignity, 

Notwithstanding the scoffs of ill-disposed persons, 

And wits of the age 



LEVITIES ; OR, PIECES OF HUMOUR. 81 

That ridiculed his behaviour, 
Or censured his breeding ; 
Following the dictates of Nature, 
Desiring to ease the afflicted, 
Eager to set the prisoners at liberty. 
Without having for his end 
The noise or report such things generally cause 
In the world, 
(As he was seen to perform them of none) 
But the sole relief and happiness 
Of the party in distress ; 
Himself resting easy 
When he could render that so ; 
Not griping or pinching himself 
To hoard up superfluities ; 
Not coveting to keep in his possession 
What gives more disquietude than pleasure ; 
But charitably diffiising it 
To all round about him : 
Making the most sorrowful countenance 
To smile 
In his presence ; 
Always bestowing more than he was asked. 
Always imparting before he was desired ; 
Not proceeding in this manner 
Upon every trivial suggestion, 
But the most mature and solemn deliberation ; 
With an incredible presence and undauntedness 
Of mind ; 
With an inimitable gravity and economy 
Of face ; 
Bidding loud defiance 
To politeness and the fashion, 
Dared let . 



82 LEVITIES ; OR, PIECES OF HUMOUR. 



HINT FROM VOITURE. 

1 Let Sol his annual journeys run, 
And when the radiant task is done, 

Confess, through all the globe, 'twould pose him. 
To match the charms that Celia shows him. 

2 And should he boast he once had seen 
As just a form, as bright a mien. 

Yet must it still for ever pose him 

To match — what Celia never shows him. 



TO A FRIEND. 



Have you ne'er seen, my gentle Squire ! 
The humours of your kitchen fire 1 

Says Ned to Sal, " I lead a spade ; 
Why don't ye play 1 — the girl 's afraid — 
Play something — anything — but play — 
'Tis but to pass the time away — 
Phoo — how she stands — biting her nails — 
As though she play'd for half her vails — 
Sorting her cards, haggling, and picking — 
We play for nothing, do us, chicken 1 
That card will do— 'blood never doubt it, 
It 's not worth while to think about it." 

Sal thought, and thought, aud miss'd her aim, 
And Ned ne'er studying won the game. 

Methinks, old friend ! 'tis wondrous true 
That verse is but a game at loo : 



LEVITIES ; OR, PIECES OF HUMOUE, 83 

AVhile many a bard, that shows so clearly 
He writes for his amusement merely, 
Is known to study, fret, and toil. 
And play for nothing all the while. 
Or praise at most ; for wreaths of yore 
Ne'er signified a farthing more ! 
Till having vainly toil'd to gain it, 
He sees your flying pen obtain it. 

Through fragrant scenes the trifler roves, 
And hallow'd haunts that Phoebus loves : 
Where with strange heats his bosom glows. 
And mystic flames the god bestows. 
You now none other flames require 
Than a good blazing parlour fire ; 
Write verses — to defy the scorners 
In houses and chimney-corners. 

Sal found her deep-laid schemes were vain — 
The cards were cut — come, deal again — 
No good comes on it when one lingers — 
I '11 play the cards come next my fingers — 
Fortune could never let Ned loo her, 
When she had left it wholly to her. 

Well, now who wins '? — why, still the same — 
For Sal has lost another game. 

" I Ve done (she mutter'd) ; I was saying, 
It did not argufy my playing. 
Some folks will win, they cannot choose ; 
But think or not think — some must lose. 
I may have won a game or so — 
But then it was an age ago — 
It ne'er will be my lot again — 
I won it of a baby then — 
Give me an ace of trumps, and see ! 
Our Ned will beat me with a three ! 



84 LEVITIES ; OR, PIECES OF HUMOUR. 

'Tis all by luck that things are carried — 
He 'U suffer for it, when he 's married." 

Thus Sal, with tears in either eye, 
While victor Ned sate tittering by. 

Thus I, long envying your success, 
And bent to write and study less, 
Sate down, and scribbled in a trice, 
Just what you see — and you despise. 

You, who can frame a tuneful song, 
And hum it as you ride along, 
And, trotting on the king's highway. 
Snatch from the hedge a sprig of bay, 
Accept this verse, howe'er it flows. 
From one that is your friend in prose. 

What is this wreath, so green, so fair. 
Which many wish, and few must wear ; 
Which some men's indolence can gain, 
And some men's vigils ne'er obtain 1 
For what must Sal or poet sue. 
Ere they engage with Ned or you '? 
For luck in verse, for luck at loo 1 

Ah, no ! 'tis genius gives you fame, 
And Ned, through skill, secures the game. 



WRITTEN AT AN INN AT HENLEY. 

1 To thee, fair Freedom ! I retire 

From flattery, cards, and dice, and din ; 
Nor art thou found in mansions higher 
Than the low cot or humble Inn. 



LEVITIES ; OR, PIECES OF HUMOUR. 85 

2 'Tis here with boundless power I reign ; 

And every health which I begin, 
Converts dull port to bright champagne; 
Such freedom crowns it, at an Inn. 

3 I flj from pomp, I flj from plate ! 

I flj from Falsehood's specious grin ! 
Freedom I love, and form I hate, 
And choose mj lodgings at an Inn. 

4 Here, Waiter ! take my sordid ore. 

Which lackeys else might hope to win ; 
It buys, what courts have not in store, 
It buys me freedom at an Inn. 

5 Whoe'er has travell'd life's dull round. 

Where'er his stages may have been, 
May sigh to think he still has found 
The warmest welcome at an Inn. 



THE POET AND THE DUN. 1741. 

" These are messengers 
That feelingly persuade me what I am." 

Shakspeake. 

Comes a dun in the morning and raps at my door — 
" I made bold to call — 'tis a twelvemonth and more — 
I 'm sorry, believe me, to trouble you thus, sir — 
But Job would be paid, sir, had Job been a mercer." 
My friend, have but patience — " Ay, these are your ways." 
I have got but one shilling to serve me two days — 



86 LEVITIES ; OR, PIECES OF HUMOUR. 

But, sir — prithee take it, and tell jour attorucj, 

If I han't paid your bill, I have paid for your journey. 

"Well, now thou art gone, let me govern my passion. 
And calmly consider — consider ■? vexation ! 
What whore that must paint, and must put on false locks, 
And counterfeit joy in the pangs of the pox 1 
What beggar's wife's nephew, now starved, and now beaten, 
Who, wanting to eat, fears himself shall be eaten 1 
What porter, what turnspit, can deem his case hard'? 
Or what Dun boast of patience that thinks of a Bard"? 
Well, I '11 leave this poor trade, for no trade can be poorer, 
Turn shoe-boy, or courtier, or pimp, or procurer ; 
Get love, and respect, and good living, and pelf. 
And dun some poor dog of a poet myself 
One's credit, however, of course will grow better. 
Here enters the footman, and brings me a letter : 

" Dear Sir ! I received your obliging epistle ; 
Your fame is secure — bid the critics go whistle. 
I read over with wonder the poem you sent me, 
And I must speak your praises, no soul shall prevent me. 
The audience, believe me, cried out, every line 
Was strong, was affecting, was just, was divine ; 
All pregnant as gold is, with worth, weight, and beauty, 
And to hide such a genius was— far from your duty. 
I foresee that the court will be hugely delighted : 
Sir Richard, for much a less genius, was knighted : 
Adieu, my good friend ! and for high life prepare ye ; 
I could say much more, but you 're modest, I spare ye." 
Quite fired with the flattery, I call for my paper, 
And waste that, and health, and my time, and my taper ; 
I scribble till mo'rn, when, with wrath no small store. 
Comes my old friend tlie mercer, and raps at my door. 
" Ah, Friend ! 'tis but idle to make such a pother ; 
Fate, Fate has ordain'd us to plague one another." 



LEVITIES ; OK, PIECES OF HUMOUR. 87 



A SIMILE. 

What village but lias sometimes seen 
The clumsy shape, the frightful mien, 
Tremendous claws, and shagged hair 
Of that grim brute yclept a bear 1 
He from his dam the learn'd agree, 
Received the curious form you see ; 
Who with her plastic tongue alone, 
Produced a visage — like her own — 
And thus they hint, in mystic fashion, 
The powerful force of education.^ 
Perhaps yon crowd of swains is viewing, 
Even now, the strange exploits of Bruin, 
Who plays his antics, roars aloud. 
The wonder of a gaping crowd ! 

So have I known an awkward lad. 
Whose birth has made a parish glad. 
Forbid, for fear of sense, to roam. 
And taught by kind mamma at home. 
Who gives him many a well-tried rule. 
With ways and means — to play the fool. 
In sense the same, in stature higher. 
He shines, ere long, a rural squire, 
Pours forth unwitty jokes, and swears. 
And bawls, and drinks, but chiefly stares 
His tenants of superior sense 
Carouse, and laugh, at his expense. 
And deem the pastime I 'm relating 
To be as pleasant as bear-baiting. 

' Of a fond matron's education. 



LEVITIES ; OR, PIECES Of HUMOUR. 



THE CHARMS OF PRECEDENCE. 

A TALE. 

" Sir, ■will jou please to walk before "? " — 
" No, praj, Sir — you are next the door." — 
" Upon mine honour, I '11 not stir." — 

" Sir, I 'm at home ; consider, Sir " • 

" Excuse me. Sir ; I '11 not go first." — 
" Well, if I must be rude, I must — 
But yet I wish I could evade it — 
"lis strangely clownish, be persuaded." 

Go forward, Cits ! go forward, Squires ! 
Nor scruple each, what each admires. lo 

Life squares not, Friends ! with your proceeding, 
It flies while you display youi- breeding ; 
Such breeding as one's grannum preaches. 
Or some old dancing-master teaches. 
Oh ! for some rude tumultuous fellow. 
Half crazy, or, at least, half mellow. 
To come behind you unawares. 
And fairly push you both down stairs ! 
But Death 's at hand — let me advise ye ; 
Go forward. Friends ! or he '11 surprise ye. 20 

Besides, how insincere you are ! 
Do ye not flatter, lie, forswear. 
And daily cheat, and weekly pray, 
And all for this — to lead the way ? 

Such is my theme, which means to prove, 
That though we drink, or game, or love, 
As that, or this, is most in fashion, 
Precedence is our ruling passion. 



LEVITIES ; OR, PIECES OF HUMOUR. 89 

When college- students take degrees, 29 

And pay the beadle's endless fees, 
What moves that scientific body, 
But the first cutting at a gaudy ? 
And whence such shoals, in bare conditions, 
That starve and languish as physicians. 
Content to trudge the streets, and stare at 
The fat apothecary's chariot 1 
But that in Charlotte's chamber (see 
Moliere's Medecin malgre lui), 
The leech, howe'er his fortunes vary, 
Still walks before the apothecary. 40 

Flavia in vain has wit and charms, 
And all that shines, and all that warms ; 
In vain all human race adore her, 
For — Lady Mary ranks before her. 

Celia ! gentle Celia ! tell us, 
You, who are neither vain nor jealous ! 
The softest breast, the mildest mien ! 
Would you not feel some little spleen, 
Nor bite your lip, nor furl your brow. 
If Florimel, your equal now, 50 

Should, one day, gain precedence of ye 1 
First served — though in a dish of cofiee ? 
Placed first, although where you are found 
You gain the eyes of all around ? 
Named first, though not with half the fame 
That waits my charming Celia's name 1 

Hard fortune ! barely to inspire 
Our fix'd esteem, and fond desire ! 
Barely, where'er you go, to prove 
The source of universal love ! 60 

Yet be content, observing this. 
Honour 's the offspring of caprice ; 



90 LEVITIES ; OR, PIECES OF HUMOUR. 

And worth, howe'er you have pursued it, 63 

Has now no power — but to exclude it : 

You '11 find your general reputation 

A kind of supplemental station. 

Poor Swift, with all his worth, could ne'er, 

He tells us, hope to rise a peer ; 

So, to supply it, wrote for fame. 

And well the wit secured his aim. 70 

A common patriot has a drift 

Not quite so innocent as Swift : 

In Britain's cause he rants, he labours ; 

" He 's honest, faith," — have patience, Neighbours, 

For patriots may sometimes deceive. 

May beg their friends' reluctant leave, 

To serve them in a higher sphere. 

And drop their virtue to get there. — 

As Lucian tells us, in his fashion. 
How souls put oflP each earthly passion, 80 

Ere on Elysium's flowery strand 
Old Charon suffer'd them to land ; 
So, ere we meet a court's caresses, 
No doubt our souls must change their dresses ; 
And souls there be, who, bound that way, 
Attire themselves ten times a-day. 

If then 'tis rank which all men covet, 
And saints alike and sinners love it ; 
If place, for which our courtiers throng 
So thick, that few can get along, 90 

For which such servile toils are seen, 
Who 's happier than a king 1 — a queen ! 
Howe'er men aim at elevation, 
'Tis properly a female passion : 
Women and beaus, beyond all measure, 
Are charm'd with rank's ecstatic pleasure. 



LEVITIES ; OR, PIECES OF HUMOUR. 91 

Sir, if jour drift I rightly scan, 97 

You 'cl liiut a beau was not a man : 
Say, women then are fond of places ; 
I waive all disputable cases. 
A man, perhaps, would something linger, 
Were his loved rank to cost — a finger ; 
Or were an ear, or toe, the price on 't. 
He might dehberate once or twice on 't ; 
Perhaps ask Gataker's advice on 't ; 
And many, as their frames grow old, 
Would hardly purchase it with gold. 

But women wish precedence ever ; 
'Tis their whole life's supreme endeavour ; 
It fires their youth with jealous rage, no 

And strongly animates their age : 
Perhaps they would not sell outright, 
Or maim a limb — that was in sight ; 
Yet on worse terms they sometimes choose it, 
Nor even in punishment refuse it, 

Pre-eminence in pain ! you cry. 
All fierce and pregnant with reply : 
But lend your patience and your ear, 
An argument shall make it clear. 
But hold, an argument may fail, 120 

Beside, my title says, A Tale. 

Where Avon rolls her winding stream, 
Avon! the Muses' favourite theme; 
Avon! that fills the farmers' purses. 
And decks with flowers both farms and verses, 
She visits many a fertile vale- 
Such was the scene of this my Tale ; 
For 'tis in Evesham's Vale, or near it, 
That folks with laughter tell and hear it. 



92 LEVITIES ; OR, PIECES OF HUMOUR. 

The soil with annual plenty bless'd i30 

Was by young Corydon possess'd. 
His youth alone I lay before ye, 
As most material to my story : 
For strength and vigour too, he had them. 
And 'twere not much amiss to add them. 

Thrice happy lout! whose wide domain, 
Now green with grass, now gilt with grain. 
In russet robes of clover deep, 
Or thinly veil'd, and white with sheep ; 
Now fragrant with the bean's perfume, uo 

Now purpled with the pulse's bloom, 
Might well with bright allusion store me, — 
But happier bards have been before me ! 

Amongst the various year's increase 
The stripUng own'd a field of pease, 
Which, when at night he ceased his labours. 
Were haunted by some female neighboui-s. 
Each morn discover'd to his sight 
The shameful havoc of the night : 
Traces of this they left behind them, i50 

But no instructions where to find them. 
The devil's works are plain and evil, 
But few or none have seen the devil. 
Old Noll, indeed, if we may credit 
The words of Echard, who has said it, 
Contrived with Satan how to fool us. 
And bargain'd face to face to rule us ; 
But then Old Noll was one in ten, 
An^ sought him more than other men. 
Our shepherd, too, with like attention, leo 

May meet the female fiends we mention. 
He rose one morn at break of day, 
And near the field in ambush lay ; 



LEVITIES ; OR, PIECES OF HUMOUR. 93 

When, Id ! a brace of girls appears, 164 

The third, a matron much in years. 

Smiling, amidst the pease, the sinners 

Sat down to cull their future dinners ; 

And caring little who might own them, 

Made free as though themselves had sown them. 

'Tis worth a sage's observation, 170 

How love can make a jest of passion ; 
Anger had forced the swain from bed, 
His earlj dues to love unpaid ! 
And Love a god that keeps a pother, 
And will be paid one time or other, 
Now banish'd Anger out of door. 
And claim'd the debt withheld before. 
If Anger bid our youth revile. 
Love form'd his features to a smile ; 
And knowing well 'twas all grimace iso 

To threaten with a smiling face, 
He in few words express'd his mind — 
And none would deem them much unkind. 

The amorous youth, for their offence. 
Demanded instant recompence ; 
That recompence from each, which shame 
Forbids a bashful Muse to name : 
Yet, more this sentence to discover, 

'Tis what Bet grants her lover, 

When he, to make the strumpet willing, 190 

Has spent his fortune — to a shilling. 

Bach stood awhile, as 'twere, suspended, 
And loth to do, what — each intended. 

At length, with soft pathetic sighs, 
The matron, bent with age, replies : 
" 'Tis vain to strive — justice, I know, 
And our iU stars, will have it so — 



94 LEVITIES ; OR, PIECES OP HUMOUR. 

But let mj tears jour wrath assuage, i98 

And show some deference for age : 

I from a distant village came, 

Am old, God knows, and something lame ; 

And if we yield, as yield we must. 

Despatch my crazy body first." 

Our shepherd, like the Phrj^gian swain, 
When circled round on Ida's plain 
With goddesses, he stood suspended, 
And Pallas's grave speech was ended, 
Own'd what she ask'd might be his duty, 
But paid the compliment to beauty. 



CUPID AND PLUTUS. 



1 When Celia, love's eternal foe. 

To rich old Gomez first was married ; 
And angry Cupid came to know 

His shafts had err'd, his bow miscarried ; 

2 He sigli'd, he wept, he hung his head. 

On the cold ground, full sad, he laid him ; 
When Plutus, there by fortune led, 
In this desponding plight survey'd him. 

3 " And sure," he cried, " you '11 own at last 

Your boasted power by mine exceeded : 
Say, wretched boy, now all is past, 
IIow little she your efforts heeded. 



LEVITIES ; OR, PIECES OF HUMOUE. 95 

4 " If with success you would assail, 

Gild, youngster, doubly gild your arrows : 
Little the feather'd shafts avail. 

Though wing'd from mamma's doves and sparrows. 

5 " What though each reed, each arrow grew, 

Where Venus bathed herself ; depend on 't, 
'Twere more for use, for beauty too, 
A diamond sparkled at the end on 't." 

6 " Peace, Plutus, peace ! " — -the boy replied ; 

Were not my arts by yours infested, 
1 could each other power deride. 
And rule this circle unmolested. 

7 " See yonder pair ! no worldly views 

In Chloe's generous breast resided : 
Love bade her the spruce valet choose, 
And she by potent love was guided. 

8 " For this, she quits her golden dreams, 

In her gilt coach no more she ranges : 
And her rich crimson, bright with gems. 

For cheeks -impearl'd with tears, she changes. 

9 " Though sordid Celia own'd your power. 

Think not so monstrous my disgrace is : 
You gain'd this nymph — that very hour 
I gain'd a score in different places." 



96 LEVITIES ; OR, PIECES OF HUMOUR. 



EPILOGUE 

TO THE TRAGEDY OF CLEONE. 

Well, Ladies — so much for the tragic style — 
And now the custom is to make you smile. 
To make us smile ! — methinks I hear you say — 
Why, who can help it, at so strange a play 1 
The captain gone three years ! — and then to blame 
The faultless conduct of his virtuous dame ! 
My stars ! what gentle belle would think it treason, 
When thus provoked, to give the brute some reason 1 
Out of my house ! — this night, forsooth, depart ! 
A modern wife had said — " With all my heart — 
But think not, haughty Sir, I '11 go alone ; 
Order your coach — conduct me safe to Town — 
Give me my jewels, wardrobe, and my maid — 
And pray take care my pin-money be paid." 
Such is the language of each modish fair ; 
Yet memoirs, not of modern growth, declare 
The time has been, when modesty and truth 
Were deem'd additions to the charms of youth ; 
When women hid their necks, and veil'd their faces. 
Nor romp'd, nor raked, nor stared at public places. 
Nor took the airs of Amazons for graces : 
Then plain domestic virtues were the mode, 
And wives ne'er dreamt of happiness abroad ; 
TLey loved their children, learnt no flaunting airs. 
But with the joys of wedlock mix'd the cares. 
Those times are past — yet sure they merit praise, 
For marriage triumph'd in those golden days ; 



levities; oe, pieces op humour. 97 

Bj chaste decorum tliey affection gam'd; 
Bj faith and fondness, what they won, maintain'd. 
'Tis yours. Ye Fair ! to bring those days again, 
And form anew the hearts of thoughtless men ; 
Make beauty's lustre amiable as bright, 
And give the soul, as well as sense, delight: 
Reclaim from folly a fantastic age. 
That scorns the press, the pulpit, and the stage. 
Let truth and tenderness your breasts adorn. 
The marriage chain with transport shall be worn ; 
Each blooming virgin, raised into a bride, 
Shall double all their joys, their cares divide ; 
Alleviate grief, compose the jars of strife. 
And pour the balm that sweetens human life. 



ON MISS M S'S DANCING. 1743. 

1 Of all that gives politeness birth, 

Of ^11 that claims to please, 
In motion, manners, or in mirth. 
The surest source is ease. 

2 With silent step, and gi'aceful air, 

See gentle Sylvia move ; 
Whilst heedless gazers, unaware, 
Resign their soul to love. 

3 Accomplish'd maid ! my trivial rhyme 

Must do thy graces wrong ; 
Who dost not only dance in time, 
But steal, like time, along. 



98 LEVITIES ; OR, PIECES OF HUMOUR. 

IMPROMPTU TO MISS UTRECIA SMITH, 

ON HER NOT DANCING. 1743. 

1 Whilst round in wild rotations hui'l'd, 

These glittering forms I view, 
Methinks the busy restless world 
Is pictured in a few. 

2 So may the busy world advance, 

Since thus the Fates decree : 

It still may have its busy dance. 

Whilst I retire with thee. 



■-^; 



-"•>j ^1 



^^^ 



ODES, &c. 

lo 

A PASTORAL ODE. 

TO THE HON. SIR RICHARD LYTTLETON. 



The morn dispensed a dubious light, 
A sudden mist had stolen from sight 

Each pleasing vale and hill ; 
When Damon left his humble bowers, 
To guard his flocks, to fence his flowers, 

Or check his wandering rill. 



"to 



2 Though school'd from Fortune's paths to fly, 
The swain beneath each lowering sky 

Would oft his fate bemoan, 
That he, in sylvan shades forlorn, 
Must waste his cheerless even and morn, 

Nor praised, nor loved, nor known. 

3 No friend to Fame's obstreperous noise. 
Yet to the whispers of her voice, 

Soft murmuring, not a foe : 
The pleasures he through choice declined, 
When gloomy fogs depress'd his mind, 

It grieved him to forego. 



100 ODES, ETC. 

4 Grieved him to lurk the lakes beside. 
Where coots in rushy dingles hide, 

And moorcocks shun the day ; 
While caitiff bitterns, undisraay'd, 
Remark the swain's familiar shade, 

And scorn to quit their prey. 

5 But see the radiant sun once more, 
The brightening face of heaven restore, 

And raise the doubtful dawn ; 
And, more to gild his rural sphere, 
At once the brightest train appear 

That ever trod the lawn. 

6 Amazement chill'd the shepherd's frame. 
To think Bridgewater's ^ honoured name 

Should grace his rustic cell ; 
That she, on all whose motions wait 
Distinction, titles, rank, and state, 

Should rove where shepherds dwell. 

7 But true it is, the generous mind. 
By candour sway'd, by taste refined. 

Will nought but vice disdain ; 
Nor will the breast where fancy glows, 
Deem every flower a weed that blows 

Amid the desert plain. 

8 Beseems it such, with honour crown'd, 
To deal its lucid beams around, 

Nor equal meed receive ; 
At most such garlands from the field, 
As cowslips, pinks, and pansies, yield, 

And rural hands can weave. 

' The Duchess of Biidgewatcr, married to Sir Richard Lyttleton. 



ODES, ETC. 101 

9 Yet strive, ye shepherds ! strive to find, 
And weave the fairest of the kind, 

The prime of all the spring ; 
If haplj thus yon lovely fair 
May, round her temples, deign to wear 

The trivial wreaths you bring. 

10 how the peaceful halcyons play'd. 
Where'er the conscious lake betray'd 

Athena's placid mien ! 
How did the sprightlier linnets throng, 
Where Paphia's charms required the song, 

'Mid hazel copses green ! 

11 Lo, Dartmouth on those banks reclined, 
While busy Fancy calls to mind 

The glories of his line ! 
Methinks my cottage rears its head, 
The ruin'd walls of yonder shed. 

As through enchantment, shine. 

12 But who the nymph that guides their way 1 
Could ever nymph descend to stray 

From Hagley's famed retreat ? 
Else, by the blooming features fair, 
The faultless make, the matchless air, 

'Twere Cynthia's form complete. 

13 So would some tuberose delight. 

That struck the pilgrim's wondering sight 

'Mid lonely deserts drear ; 
All as at eve, the sovereign flower 
Dispenses round its balmy power, 

And crowns the fragrant year. 



102 ODES, ETC. 

14 Ah ! now no more, the shepherd cried, 
Must I Ambition's charms deride, 

Her subtle force disown ; 
No more of Fauns or Fairies dream, 
While Fancy, near each crystal stream. 

Shall paint these forms alone. 

15 By low-brow'd rock or pathless mead, 

I deem'd that splendour ne'er should lead 

My dazzled eyes astray ; 
But who, alas ! will dare contend, 
If beauty add, or merit blend, 

Its more illustrious ray 1 

16 Nor is it long, plaintive swain ! 
Since Guernsey saw, without disdain. 

Where, hid in woodlands green. 
The partner of his early days,^ 
And once the rival of his praise. 

Had stolen through life unseen. 

1 7 Scarce faded is the vernal flower. 
Since Stamford left his honour'd bower 

To smile familiar here : 
form'd by Nature to disclose. 
How fair that courtesy which flows 

From social warmth sincere ! 

1 8 Nor yet have many moons decay'd, 
Since PoUio sought this lonely shade. 

Admired this rural maze : 
The noblest breast that Virtue fires. 
The Graces love, the Muse inspires, 

Might pant for PoUio's praise. 

' They were schoolfellows. 



ODES, ETC. 103 

19 Saj, Thomson here was known to rest ; 
For him yon vernal seat I drest, 

Ah, never to return ! 
In place of wit and melting strains, 
And social mirth, it now remains 

To weep beside his urn. 

20 Come then, my Lelius ! come once more, 
And fringe the melancholy shore 

With roses and with bays. 
While I each wayward Fate accuse, 
That envied his impartial Muse, 

To sing your early praise. 

21 While Philo, to whose favour'd sight 
Antiquity, with full delight. 

Her inmost wealth displays ; 
Beneath yon ruin's moulder'd wall 
Shall muse, and with his friends recall 

The pomp of ancient days. 

22 Here, too, shall Conway's name appear; 
He praised the stream so lovely clear, 

That shone the reeds among ; 
Yet clearness could it not disclose, 
To match the rhetoric that flows 

From Conway's polish'd tongue. 

23 Even Pitt, whose fervent periods roll 
Resistless through the kindling soul 

Of senates, councils, kings — 
Though form'd for courts, vouchsafed to rove, 
Inglorious, through the shepherd's grove, 

And ope his bashful springs. 



104 ODES, ETC. 

24 But what can courts discover more 
Than these rude haunts have seen before, 

Each fount and shady tree 1 
Have not these trees and fountains seen 
The pride of courts, the winning mien 

Of peerless Aylesbury 1 

25 And Grenville, she whose radiant eyes 
Have mark'd by slow gradation rise 

The princely piles of Stowe ; 
Yet praised these uuembellish'd woods. 
And smiled to see the babbling floods 

Through self-worn mazes flow. 

26 Say, Dartmouth, who your banks admired, 
Again beneath your caves retired, 

Shall grace the pensive shade ; 
With all the bloom, with all the truth. 
With all the sprightliuess of youth, 

By cool reflection sway'd ? 

27 Brave, yet humane, shall Smith appear ; 
Ye sailors ! though his name be dear, 

Think him not yours alone : 
Grant him in other spheres to charm ; 
The shepherds' breasts though mild are warm, 

And ours are all his own. 

28 Lyttleton ! my honour'd guest, 
Could I describe thy generous breast, 

Thy firm yet polish'd mind ; 
How public love adorns thy name, 
How Fortune, too, conspires with Fame ; 

The song should please mankind. 



ODES, ETC. 105 



ODE TO HEALTH, 1730. 

1 Health ! capricious maid ! 

Why dost thou shun my peaceful bower, 
Where I had hope to share thy power. 
And bless thy lasting aid 1 

2 Since thou, alas ! art flown. 

It 'vails not whether Muse or Grace, 
With tempting smile, frequent the place ; 
I sigh for thee alone. 

3 Age not forbids thy stay : 

Thou yet mightst act the friendly part ; 
Thou yet mightst raise this languid heart ; 
Why speed so swift away '? 

4 Thou scorn'st the city air ; 

I breathe fresh gales o'er furrow'd ground, 
Yet hast not thou my wishes crown'd, 
false ! partial Fair ! 

5 I plunge into the wave ; 

And though with purest hands I raise 
A rural altar to thy praise, 
Thou wilt not deign to save. 



^&' 



6 Amid my well-known grove. 
Where mineral fountains vainly bear 
Thy boasted name, and titles fair, 
Why scorns thy foot to rove 1 



106 ODES, ETC. 

7 Thou hear'st the sportsman's claim ; 
Enabling him, with idle noise, 

To drown the Muse's melting voice, 
And fright the timorous game. 

8 Is thought thj foe ? Adieu, 

Ye midnight lamps ! ye curious tomes ! 
Mine eye o'er hills and valleys roams, 
And deals no more with you. 

9 Is it the clime you flee 1 

Yet midst his unremitting snows 
The poor Laponian's bosom glows, 
And shares bright rays from thee. 

10 There was, there was a time. 

When, though I scorn'd thy guardian care, 
Nor made a vow, nor said a prayer, 
I did not rue the crime. 

1 1 Who then more blest than I, 

When the glad schoolboy's task was done. 
And forth, with jocund spirit, I run 
To freedom and to joy 1 

12 How jovial then the day ! 

What since have all my labours found, 
Thus climbing life, to gaze around, 
That can thy loss repay ^ 

13 Wert thou, alas! but kind, 
;Methinks no frown that Fortune wears, 
Nor lessen'd hopes, nor growing cares. 

Could sink my cheerful mind. 



ODES, ETC. 107 

14 Whate'er my stars include, 
What other breasts convert to pain. 
My towering mind should soon disdain, 

Should scorn — Ingratitude ! 

1 5 Repair this mouldering cell, 

And, blest with objects found at home. 
And envying none their fairer dome, 
How pleased my soul should dwell ! 

1 6 Temperance should guard the doors ; 
From room to room should Memory stray. 
And, ranging all in neat array, 

Enjoy her pleasing stores • 

17 There let them rest unknown. 
The types of many a pleasing scene ; 
But to preserve them bright or clean, 

Is thine, Fair Queen ! alone. 



TO A LADY OF QUALITY, 

FITTING UP HER LIBEARY. 

1 Ah ! what is science, what is art, 
Or what the pleasure these impart "? 
Ye trophies, which the learn'd pursue 
Through endless, fruitless toils, adieu ! 



108 ODES, ETC. 

2 What can the tedious tomes bestow, 
To soothe the miseries they show 1 
What like the bliss for him decreed, 
Who tends his .flock and tunes his reed 1 

3 Say, wretched Fancy ! thus refined 
From all that glads tlie simplest hind, 
How rare that object which supplies 
A charm for too discerning eyes ! 

4 The polish'd bard, of genius vain, 
Endures a deeper sense of pain ; 
As each invading blast devours 
The richest fruits, the fairest flowers. 

5 Sages, with irksome waste of time, 
The steep ascent of knowledge climb ; 
Then, from the towering heights they scale. 
Behold contentment range — the vale. 



'b^ 



6 Yet why, Asteria, tell us why 

We scorn the crowd when you are nigh 1 
Why then does reason seem so fair, 
Why learning, then, deserve our care *? 

7 Who can unpleased your shelves behold, 
While you so fair a proof unfold. 
What force the brightest genius draws 
From polish'd wisdom's written laws 1 

8 Where are our humbler tenets flown ? 
What strange perfection bids us own 
That Bliss with toilsome Science dwells, 
And happiest he who most excels ? 



ODES, ETC. 



109 



TO A LADY, 

WITH SOME COLOUEED PATTERNS OF FLOWERS. 
OCTOBER 7, 1736. 

Madam, — 
Though rude the draughts, though artless seem the lines, 
From one unskill'd in verse, or in designs ; 
Oft has good-nature been the fool's defence, 
And honest meanino- ojilded want of sense. 

Fear not, though flowers and beauty grace my lay, 
To praise one fair, another shall decay. 
No lily, bright with painted foliage, here, 
Shall only languish, when Belinda's near : 
A fate reversed no smiling rose shall know, 
Nor with reflected lustre doubly glow. lo 

Praises which languish when applied to you, 
Where flattering schemes seem obviously true. 

Yet sure your sex is near to flowers allied, 
Alike in softness, and alike in pride : 
Foes to retreat, and ever fond to shine. 
Both rush to danger, and the shades decline; 
Exposed, the short-lived pageants of a day. 
To painted flies or glittering fops a prey : 
Changed with each wind, nor one short day the same, 
Each clouded sky affects their tender frame, 20 

In glaring Chloe's man-like taste and mien. 
Are the gross splendours of the tulip seen : 
Distant they strike, inelegantly gay. 
To the near view no pleasing charms display. 
To form the nymph, a vulgar wit must jqiii. 
As coarser soils will most the flower refine. 



110 ODES, ETC. 

Ophelia's beauties let the jasmine paint, 27 

Too faintly soft, too nicely elegant. 
Around witli seeming sanctity endued, 
The passion-flower may best express the prude. 
Like the gay rose, too rigid Silvia shines. 
While, like its guardian thorn, her virtue joins. 
Happy the nymph from all their failures free ! 
Happy the nymph in whom their charms agree ! 

Faint these productions, till you bid disclose, 
The pink new splendours, and fresh tints the rose : 
And yet condemn not trivial draughts like these, 
Form'd to improve, and make even trifles please. 
A power like yours minuter beauties warms, 
And yet can blast the most aspiring charms : 40 

Thus, at the rays whence other objects shine, 
The taper sickens, and its flames decline. 
When by your art the purple violet lives. 
And the pale lily sprightlier charms receives ; 
Garters to me shall glow inferior far. 
And with less pleasing lustre shine the star. 

Let serious triflers, fond of wealth or fame, 
On toils like these bestow too soft a name ; 
Each gentler art with wise indiflerence view, 
And scorn one trifle, millions to pursue : 50 

More artful I their specious schemes deride : 
Fond to please you, by you in these employed ; 
A nobler task, or more sublime desire, 
Ambition ne'er could form, nor pride inspire. 

The sweets of tranquil life and rural ease 
Amuse securely, nor less justly please. 
Where gentle pleasure sliows her milder power. 
Or blooms in fruit, or sparkles in the flower ; 
Smiles in the groves, the raptured poet's theme ; 
Flows in the brook, his Naiad of the stream ; 60 



ODES, ETC. Ill 

Dawns, with each happier stroke the pencil gives, ei 

And, in each livelier image, smiling lives ; 

Is heard, when Silvia strikes the warbling strings, 

Selinda speaks, or Philomela sings : 

Breathes with the morn ; attends, propitious maid. 

The evening ramble, and the noon-daj glade : 

Some visionary fair she cheats our view, 

Then only vigorous when she seems like jou. 

Yet Nature some for sprightlier joys design'd. 

For brighter scenes, with nicer care, refined. 70 

When the gay jewel radiant streams supplies, 

And vivid brilliants meet your brighter eyes ; 

When dress and pomp around the fancy play. 

By fortune's dazzling beauties borne away ; 

When theatres for you the scenes forego, 

And the box bows obsequiously low : 

How dull the plan which indolence has drawn, 

The mossy grotto, or the flowery lawn ! 

Though roseate scents in every wind exhale. 

And sylvan warblers charm in every pale. so 

Of these be hers the choice whom all approve ; 
And whom but those who envy, all must love : 
By nature modell'd, by experience taught, 
To know and pity every female fault : 
Pleased even to hear her sex's virtues shown. 
And blind to none's perfections but her own : 
Whilst, humble fair ! of these too few she knows, 
Yet owns too many for the world's repose ; 
From wit's wild petulance serenely free. 
Yet blest in all that nature can decree. 90 

Not like a fire, which, whilst it burns, alarms ; 
A modest flame, that gently shines and warms : 
Whose mind, in every light, can charms display, 
With wisdom serious, and with humour gay ; 



112 ODES, ETC. 

Just as her eyes in each bright posture warm, 95 

And fiercely strike, or languishingly charm : 

Such are your honours — mention'd to your cost, 

Those least can hear them, who deserve them most : 

Yet ah ! forgive — the less inventive muse. 

If e'er she sing, a copious theme must choose. 100 



ANACREONTIC, 1738. 

1 'Twas in a cool Aonian glade, 

The wanton Cupid, spent with toil. 
Had sought refreshment from the shade. 
And stretch'd him on the mossy soil. 

2 A vagrant Muse drew nigh, and found 

The subtle traitor fast asleep ; 
And is it thine to snore profound. 

She said, yet leave the world to weep 1 

3 But hush ! — from this auspicious hour 

The world, I ween, may rest in peace. 
And, robb'd of darts, and stript of power, 
Thy peevish petulance decrease. 

4 Sleep on, poor Child ! whilst I withdraw, 

And this thy vile artillery hide — 
When the Castalian fount she saw. 
And plunged his arrows in the tide. 

5 That magic fount, ill-judging maid. 

Shall cause you soon to curse the day 
You dared the shafts of Love invade. 
And gave his arms redoubled sway. 



ODES, ETC. 113 

6 For in a stream so wondrous clear, 

AVhen angry Cupid searches round, 
Will not the radiant points appear ? 
Will not the furtive spoils be found ? 

7 Too soon they were ; and every dart, 

Dipt in the Muse's mystic spring. 
Acquired new force to wound the heart, 
And taught at once to love and sing. 

8 Tlien farewell, ye Pierian quire ! 

For who will now your altars throng ? 
From Love we learn to swell the lyre, 
And Echo asks no sweeter song. 



ODE. 

WRITTEN 1739. 
Urit spes animi credula mutui. — Hor. 

'Twas not by beauty's aid alone 
That Love usurp'd his airy throne, 

His boasted power display'd ; 
'Tis kindness that secures his aim, 
'Tis hope that feeds the kindling flame 

Which beauty first convey'd. 

In Clara's eyes the lightning view ; 
Her lips with all the rose's hue 

Have all its sweets combined ; 
Yet vain the blush, and faint the fire, 
Till lips at once, and eyes, conspire 

To prove the charmer kind 

H 



114 ODES, ETC. 

3 Though wit might gild the tempting snare 
With softest accent, sweetest air, 

By envy's self admired ; 
If Lesbia's wit betray'd her scorn, 
In vain might every Grace adorn 

What every Muse inspired. 

4 Thus airy Strephou tuned his lyre — 
He scorn'd the pangs of wild desire, 

Which lovesick swains endure ; 
Resolved to brave the keenest dart, 
Since frowns could never wound his heart ; 

And smiles — must ever cure. 

5 But, ah! how false these maxims prove, 
How frail security from love. 

Experience hourly shows ; 
Love can imagined smiles supply ; 
On every charming lip and eye 

Eternal sweets bestows. 

6 In vain we trust the fair one's eyes ; 
In vain the sage explores the skies, 

To learn from stars his fate ; 
Till, led by fancy wide astray, 
He finds no planet mark his way ; 

Convinced and wise — too late. 

7 As partial to their words we prove. 
Then boldly join the lists of love. 

With towering hopes supplied : 
So heroes, taught by doubtful shrines, 
Mistook their deity's designs ; 

Then took the field — and died. 



ODES, ETC. 115 

UPON A VISIT TO A LADY OF QUALITY, 

IN WINTER 1748. 

1 On fair Asteria's blissful plains, 
Where ever-blooming fancy reigns, 
How pleased we pass the winter's day, 
And charm the dull-eyed Spleen away ! 

2 No linnet, from the leafless bough, 
Pours forth her note melodious now, 
But all admire Asteria's tongue, 
Nor wish the linnet's vernal song. 

3 No flowers emit their transient rays ; 
Yet sure Asteria's wit displays 

More various tints, more glowing lines, 
And with perennial beauty shines. 

4 Though rifled groves and fetter'd streams 
But ill befriend a poet's dreams ; 
Asteria's presence wakes the lyre, 

And well supplies poetic fire. 

5 The fields have lost their lovely dye ; 
No cheerful azure decks the sky : 
Yet still we bless the lowering day ; 
Asteria smiles — and all is gay. 

6 Hence let the Muse no more presume, 
To blame the winter's dreary gloom ; 
Accuse his loitering hours no more, 
But, ah ! their envious haste deplore. 



116 ODES, ETC. 

7 For soon, from Wit and Friendship's reign, 
The social hearth, the sprightly vein, 

I go — to meet the coming year. 

On savage plains, and deserts drear ! 

8 I go — to feed on pleasures flown, 
Nor find the spring my loss atone ; 
But, 'mid the flowery sweets of May, 
With pride recall this winter's day. 



ODE TO MEMORY. 1748. 

Memory ! celestial maid ! 

Who glean'st the flowerets crept by time ; 
And, sufiering not a leaf to fade, 

Preserv'st the blossoms of our prime ; 
Bring, bring those moments to my mind 
When life was new and Lesbia kind. 

And bring that garland to my sight, 

With which my favour'd crook she bound ; 

And bring that wreath of roses bright. 
Which then my festive temples crown'd ; 

And to my raptured ear convey 

The gentle things she deign'd to say 

And sketch with care the Muse's bower, 
Where Isis rolls her silver tide ; 

Nor yet omit one reed or flower 

That shines on Cherwell's verdant side ; 

If so thou mayst those hours prolong. 

When polish'd Lycon join'd my song. 



/ 



ODES, ETC. 117 

4 The song it 'vails not to recite — ^ 

But, sure, to soothe our youthful dreams, 
Those banks and streams appear 'd more bright 

Than other banks, than other streams ; 
Or, by the softening pencil shown, 
Assume they beauties not their own ? 

5 And paint that sweetly-vacant scene. 

When, all beneath the poplar bough. 
My spirits light, my soul serene, 

I breathed in verse one cordial vow : 
That nothing should my soul inspire 
But friendship warm and love entire. 

6 Dull to the sense of new delight, 

On thee the drooping muse attends ; 
As some fond lover, robb'd of sight, 

On thy expressive power depends, 
Nor would exchange thy glowing lines. 
To live the lord of all that shines. 

7 But let me chase those vows away. 

Which at Ambition's shrine I made ; 
Nor ever let thy skill display 

Those anxious moments, ill repaid : 
Oh ! from my breast that season rase, 
And bring my childhood in its place. 

8 Bring me the bells, the rattle bring, 

And bring the hobby I bestrode. 
When pleased, in many a sportive ring. 

Around the room I jovial rode ; 
Even let me bid my lyre adieu. 
And bring the whistle that I blew. 



lis ODES, ETC. 

Then -will I muse, and, peusive, say, 
Wliy did not these enjoyments last ? 

How sweetly wasted I the day, 
While innocence allow'd to waste ! 

Ambition's toils alike are vain, 

But ah ! for pleasure yield us pain. 



VERSES AVRITTEN TOWARDS THE CLOSE OP 
THE YEAR 1748, 

TO WILLIAM LYTTLETON, ESQ. 

1 How blithely pass'd the summer's day ! 

How bright was every flower ! 
While friends arrived in circles gay, 
To visit Damon's bower ! 

2 But now, with silent step I range 

Along some lonely shore ; 
And Damon's bower, alas the change ! 
Is gay with friends no more. 

3 Away to crowds and cities borne, 

In quest of joy they steer, 

Whilst I, alas ! am left forlorn, 

To weep the parting year ! 

4 pensive autumn ! how I grieve 

Thy sorrowing face to see ! 
When languid suns are taking leave 
Of every drooping tree. 



ODES, ETC. 119 

5 Ah ! let me not, with heavy eye, 

This dying scene survey ! 
Haste Winter ! haste ! usurp the sky ; 
Complete my bower's decay. 

6 111 can I bear the motley cast 

Yon sickening leaves retain ; 
That speak at once of pleasure past, 
And bode approaching pain. 

7 At home, unblest, I gaze around, 

My distant scenes require ; 
Where, all in murky vapours drown'd, 
Are hamlet, hill, and spire. 

8 Though Thomson, sweet descriptive bard ! 

Inspiring Autumn sung ; 
Yet how should we the months regard, 
That stopt his flowing tongue ? 

9 Ah ! luckless months, of all the rest, 

To whose hard share it fell ! 
For sure his was the gentlest breast 
That ever sung so well. 

10 And see, the swallows now disown 

The roofs they loved before, 
Each, like his tuneful genius, flown 
To glad some happier shore. 

11 The wood-nymph eyes, with pale affright, 

The sportsman's frantic deed. 
While hounds, and horns, and yells, unite 
To drown the Muse's reed. 



120 ODES, ETC. 

12 Ye fields, with blighted herbage brown ! 

Ye skies, no longer blue ! 
Too ranch we feel from Fortune's frown 
To bear these frowns from you. 

13 Where is tlie mead's unsullied green 1 

The zephyr's balmy gale '? 
And where sweet friendship's cordial mien, 
That brighten'd every vale 1 

14 What though the vine disclose her dyes, 

And boast her purple store 1 

Not all the vineyard's rich supplies 

Can soothe our sorrows more. 

15 He ! he is gone, whose moral strain 

Could wit and mirth refine ; 

He ! he is gone, whose social vein 

Surpass'd the power of wine. 

16 Fast by the streams he deign'd to praise. 

In yon sequester'd grove, 
To him a votive urn I raise, 
To him, and friendly Love. 

1 7 Yes, there, my friend ! forlorn and sad 

I grave your Thomson's name, 
And there, his lyre ; which Fate forbade 
To sound your growing fame. 

18 There shall my plaintive song recount 

Dark themes of hopeless woe. 
And faster than the drooping fount 
I '11 teach mine eyes to flow. 



ODES, ETC. 121 

1.9 There leaves, in spite of Autumn green, 
Shall shade the hallow'd ground, 
And Spring will there again be seen 
To call forth flowers around. 

20 But no kind suns will bid me share, 
Once more, his social hour ; 
Ah ! Spring ! thou never canst repair 
This loss to Damon's bower. 



AN IRREGULAR ODE, AFTER SICKNESS. 1749. 

Melius, cum venerit ipsa, Ccanemus. — Vina. 

Too long a stranger to repose, 
At length from Pain's abhorred couch I rose, 

And wander'd forth alone, 
To court once more the balmj breeze, 
And catch the verdure of the trees, 

Ere yet their charms were flown. 

'Twas from a bank with pansies gaj, 
I hail'd once more the cheerful day, 

The sun's forgotten beams : 
Sun ! how pleasing were thy rays, lo 

Reflected from the polish'd face 

Of yon refulgent streams ! 

Raised by the scene, my feeble tongue 
Essay'd again the sweets of song : 
And thus, in feeble strains and slow, 
The loitering numbers 'gan to flow. 



122 ODBS, ETC. 

" Come, gentle Air ! my languid limbs restore. i7 
And bid me welcome from the Stygian shore ; 

For svn'e I heard the tender sighs, 

I seem'd to join the plaintive cries, 
Of hapless youths M'ho through the myrtle grove 
Bewail for ever their unfinish'd love ; 

To that unjoyous clime, 
Torn from the sight of these ethereal skies ; 
Debarr'd the lustre of their Delia's eyes, 
And banish'd in their prime. 

" Come, gentle Air ! and, while the tliickcts bloom, 
Convey the jasmine's breath divine ; 
Convey the woodbine's rich perfume. 

Nor spare the sweet-leaf'd eglantine ; 30 

And mayst thou sliun the rugged storm. 
Till Health her wonted charms explain, 
With Rural Pleasure in her train, 
To greet me in her fairest form ; 
While from this lofty mount I view 
The sons of earth, the vulgar crew. 
Anxious for futile gains, beneath me stray, 
And seek with erring step Contentment's obvious way. 

" Come, gentle Air ! and thou, celestial Muse ! 

Thy genial flame infuse, 40 

Enough to lend a pensive bosom aid. 

And gild Retirement's gloomy shade ; 

Enough to rear such rustic lays 
As foes may shght, but partial friends will praise." 

The gentle Air allow'd my claim, 
And, more to cheer my drooping frame. 



ODES, ETC. 123 

She mixt the balm of opening flowers, 47 

Such as the bee, with chemic powers, 
From Hjbla's fragrant hills inhales, 
Or scents Sabea's blooming vales : 
But, ah ! the nymphs that heal tlie pensive mind, 
Bj prescripts more refined, 
Neglect their votary's anxious moan : 
Oh ! how should they relieve? — the Muses all were flown. 

By flowery plain or woodland shades 
I fondly sought the charming maids ; 
By woodland shades or flowery plain 
I sousfht them, faithless maids ! in vain ; 

When, lo ! in happier hour, 
I leave behind my native mead, 60 

To range where Zeal and Friendship lead, 

To visit Luxborough's honour'd bower. 

Ah ! foolish man ! to seek the tuneful maids 
On other plains, or near less verdant shades ; 
Scarce have my footsteps press'd the favour'd ground, 
When sounds ethereal strike my ear ; 
At once celestial forms appear ; 

My fugitives are found ! 
The Muses here attune their lyres. 
Ah ! partial, with unwonted fires ; 70 

Here, hand in hand, with careless mien. 
The sportive graces trip the green. 

But whilst I wander'd o'er a scene so fair, 

Too well at one survey I trace 

How every Muse and every Grace 
Had long employ'd their care. 
Lurks not a stone enrich'd with lively stain, 



124 ' 0DE3, ETC. 

Blooms not a flower amid the vernal store, 78 

Falls not a plume on India's distant plain, 

Glows not a shell on Adria's rocky shore, 
But torn, me thought, from native lands or seas. 
From their arrangement gain fresh power to please. 

And some had bent the wildering maze, 
Bedeck'd with every shrub that blows. 

And some entwined the willing sprays. 
To shield th' illustrious dame's repose ; 

Others had graced the sprightly dome. 
And taught the portrait where to glow ; 

Others arranged the curious tome, 

Or, 'mid the decorated space, 90 

Assign'd the laurell'd bust a place, 
And given to learning all the pomp of show. 
And now^ from every task withdrawn, 
They met and frisk'd it o'er the lawn. 

Ah ! woe is me, said I, 

And 's hilly circuit heard my cry : 

Have I for this with labour strove. 
And lavish'd all my little store, 
To fence for you my shady grove, 

And scollop every winding shore, loo 

And fringe with eycry purple rose, 
The sapphire stream that down my valley flows ? 

Ah ! lovely treacherous maids ! 
To quit unseen my votive shades, 
When pale Disease, and torturing Pain, 
Had torn me from the breezy plain, 
And to a restless couch confined, 
Who ne'er your wonted tasks declined. 



ODES, ETC. 125 

She needs not jour ofl&cious aid 109 

To swell the song, or plan the shade ; 

Bj genuine Fancy fired, 
Her native genius guides her hand, 
And while she marks the sage command. 
More lovely scenes her skill shall raise, 
Her lyre resound with nobler lays 

Than ever you inspired. 

Thus I my rage and grief display, 
But vainly blame, and vainly mourn, 
Nor will a Grace, or Muse, return 

Till Luxborough lead the way. 120 



RURAL ELEGANCE. 

AN ODE TO THE LATE DUCHESS OF SOMERSET. 1750. 

While orient skies restore the day. 
And dew-drops catch the lucid ray ; 
Amid the sprightly scenes of morn 

Will aught the Muse inspire ? 
Oh ! peace to yonder clamorous horn 

That drowns the sacred lyre ! 

Ye rural Thanes ! that o'er the mossy down 
Some panting, timorous hare pursue. 
Does Nature mean your joys alone to crown ? 

Say, does she smooth her lawns for you "? lo 
For you does Echo bid the rocks reply. 
And, urged by rude constraint, resound the jovial cry 1 



126 ODES, ETC. 

See from the neighbouring hill, forlorn, 13 

The "wretched swain your sport survey ; 

He finds his faithful fences torn. 
He finds his labour'd crops a prey ; 

He sees his flock no more in circles feed, 
Haply beneath your ravage bleed, 
And with no random curses loads the deed. 

Nor yet, ye Swains ! conclude 20 

That Nature smiles for you alone ; 
Your bounded souls and your conceptions crude. 

The proud, the selfish boast disown : 

Yours be the produce of the soil ; 

may it still reward your toil ! 

Nor ever the defenceless train 
Of clinging infants ask support in vain ! 

But though the various harvest gild your plains, 

Does the mere landscape feast your eye ? 

Or the warm hope of distant gains 30 

Far other cause of glee supply ? 

Is not the red-streak's future juice 

The source of your delight profound, 
Where Ariconium pours her gems profuse, 

Purpling a whole horizon round 1 
A thirst ye praise the limpid stream, 'tis true ; 

But though the pebbled shores among 

It mimic no unpleasing song. 
The limpid fountain murmurs not for you. 

Unpleased ye see the thickets bloom, 40 

Unpleased the spring her flowery robe resume ; 
Unmoved the mountain's airy pile. 
The dappled mead without a smile 



ODES, ETC. 127 

let a raral conscious Muse, u 

For well she knows, your froward sense accuse : 
Forth to the solemn oak you bring the square, 
And span the massy trunk, before you cry, 'Tis fair. 

Nor yet, ye Learn'd ! nor yet, ye Courtly Train ! 

If haply from your haunts ye stray 

To waste with us a summer's day, so 

Exclude the taste of every swain, 

Nor our untutor'd sense disdain : 
'Tis nature only gives exclusive right 

To relish her supreme delight ; 

She, where she pleases, kind or coy, 
Who furnishes the scene, and forms us to enjoy. 

Then hither bring the fair ingenuous mind, 
By her auspicious aid refined. 
Lo ! not an hedge-row hawthorn blows. 

Or humble harebell paints the plain, eo 

Or valley winds, or fountain flows, 

Or purple heath is tinged in vain : 
For such the rivers dash the foaming tides. 
The mountain swells, the dale subsides : 
Even thriftless furze detains their wandering sight, 
And the rough barren rock grows pregnant with delight. 

With what suspicious fearful care 

The sordid wretch secures his claim, 
If haply some luxurious heir 69 

Should alienate the fields that wear his name ! 
What scruples lest some future birth 
Should litigate a span of earth ! 
Bonds, contracts, feoffments, names unmeet for prose, 
The towering Muse endures not to disclose ,- 



128 ODES, ETC. 

Alas ! her unreversed decree, 75 

More comprehensive and more free, 
Her lavish charter, taste, appropriates ^ all we see. 

Let gondolas their painted flags unfold. 

And be the solemn day enroll'd. 
When, to confirm his lofty plea, 80 

In nuptial sort, with bridal gold. 

The grave Venetian weds the sea ; 

Each laughing Muse derides the vow ; 

Even Adria scorns the mock embrace, 
To some lone hermit on the mountain's brow, 
Allotted, from his natal hour, 
With all her myrtle shores in dower. 
His breast, to admiration prone. 
Enjoys the smile upon her face, 
Enjoys triumphant every grace, 90 

And finds her more his own. 

Fatigued with Form's oppressive laws, 

When Somerset avoids the great, 
When, cloy'd with merited applause, 

She seeks the rural calm retreat, 
Does she not praise each mossy cell. 
And feel the truth my numbers tell ? 
When deafen'd by the loud acclaim 

Which genius graced with rank obtains. 
Could she not more delighted hear loo 

Yon throstle chant the rising year 1 
Could she not spurn the wreaths of fame, 

To crop the primrose of the plains ? 
Docs she not sweets in each fair valley find, 
Lost to the sons of power, unknown to half mankind ? 

' ' Appropriates : ' hence a well-known passage in Emerson, — ' Miller owns 
this field— Lock yonder other— I own the landscape.' 



ODES, ETC. 129 

Ah ! can she covet there to see io6 

The splendid slaves, the reptile race, 
That oil the tongue, and bow the knee. 
That slight her merit, but adore her place ? 

Far happier, if aright I deem, no 

AVhen from gay throngs, and gilded spires. 

To where the lonely halcyons play. 
Her philosophic step retires : 
While studious of the moral theme, 
She, to some smooth sequester'd stream 
Likens the swains' inglorious day ; 
Pleased from the flowery margin to survey. 
How cool, serene, and clear, the current glides away. 

blind to truth, to virtue blind, 

AVho slight the sweetly pensive mind ! 120 

On whose fair birth the Graces mild. 

And every Muse proplietic smiled. 

Not tliat the poet's boasted fire 
Should Fame's wide-echoing trumpet swell ; 

Or, on the music of his lyre 
Each future age with rapture dwell ; 
The vaunted sweets of praise remove. 

Yet shall such bosoms claim a part 

In all that glads the human heart ; 
Yet these the spirits form'd to judge and prove 130 
All Nature's charms immense, and heaven's unbounded love. 

And, oh ! the transport most allied to song. 

In some fair villa's peaceful bound. 
To catch soft hints from Nature's tongue. 

And bid Arcadia bloom around ; 
Whether we fringe the sloping hiU, 

Or smoothe below the verdant mead ; 
I 



130 ODES, ETC. 

Whether we break the falling rill, iss 

Or through meandering mazes lead ; 
Or in the horrid brambles' room 
Bid careless groups of roses bloom ; 
Or let some shelter'd lake serene 
Reflect flowers, woods, and spires, and brighten all the scene. 

sweet disposal of the rural hour ! 

beauties never known to cloy ! 
While Worth and Genius haunt the favour'd bower. 
And every gentle breast partakes the joy ; 
While Charity at eve surveys the swain, 

Enabled by these toils to cheer 

A train of helpless infants dear, iso 

Speed whistling home across the plain ; 
See vagrant Luxury, her handmaid grown, 

For half her graceless deeds atone. 
And hails the bounteous work, and ranks it with her own. 

Why brand these pleasures with the name 
Of soft, unsocial toils, of indolence and shame 1 
Search but the garden, or the wood. 
Let yon admired carnation own, 
Not all was meant for raiment, or for food. 

Not all for needful use alone ; leo 

There while the seeds of future blossoms dwell, 
'Tis colour'd for the sight, perfumed to please the smell. 

Why knows the nightingale to sing 1 
Why flows the pine's nectareous juice 1 

Why shines with paint the linnet's wing ? 
For sustenance alone "? for use ? 

For preservation 1 Every sphere 
Shall bid fair Pleasure's rightful claim appear. 



ODES, ETC. 131 

And sure there seem, of humankind, i69 

Some born to shun the solemn strife ; 
Some for amusive tasks design 'd, 
To soothe the certain ills of life ; 
Grace its lone vales with many a budding rose. 
New founts of bliss disclose, 
Call forth refreshing shades, and decorate repose. 

From plains and woodlands ; from the view 
Of rural Nature's blooming face, 
Smit with the glare of rank and place. 

To courts the sons of Fancy flew ; 
There long had Art ordain'd a rival seat, iso 

There had she lavished all her care 

To form a scene more dazzling fair, 
And call'd them from their green retreat 

To share her proud control ; 
. Had given the robe with grace to flow, 

Had taught exotic gems to glow; 
And emulous of Nature's power, 
Mimic'd the plume, the leaf, the flower; 

Changed the complexion's native hue, 

Moulded each rustic limb anew, 190 

And warp'd the very soul ! 

Awhile her magic strikes the novel eye, 
Awhile the fairy forms delight; 
And now aloof we seem to fly 
On purple pinions through a purer sky. 
Where all is wondrous, all is bright : 
Now, landed on some spangled shore. 
Awhile each dazzled maniac roves. 
By sapphire lakes through emerald groves : 
Paternal acres please no more : 200 



132 ODES, ETC. 

Adieu, the simple, the sincere delight ! 201 

The habitual scene of hill and dale, 
The rural herds, the vernal gale, 
The tangled vetch's purple bloom. 
The fragrance of the bean's perfume. 

Be theirs alone who cultivate the soil, 
And drink the cup of thirst, and eat the bread of toil. 

But soon the pageant fades away ! 

'Tis Nature only bears perpetual sway. 

We pierce the counterfeit delight, 210 

Fatigued witli splendour's irksome beams. 
Fancy again demands the sight 
Of native groves and wonted streams, 

Pants for the scenes that charm'd her youthful eyes, 
Where Truth maintains her court, and banishes Disguise. 

Then hither oft, ye Senators ! retire ; 

With Nature here high converse hold ; 
For who like Stamford her delights admire, 

Like Stamford shall with scorn behold 
The unequal bribes of pageantry and gold ; 220 
Beneath the British oak's majestic shade. 
Shall see fair Truth, immortal maid ! 
Friendship in artless guise array 'd. 
Honour and moral beauty shine 
With more attractive charms, with radiance more divine. 

Yes, here alone did higliest Heaven ordain 
The lasting magazine of charms. 
Whatever wins, whatever warms. 
Whatever fancy seeks to share, 
The great, the various, and the fair, 230 

For ever should remain ! 



ODES, ETC. 133 

Her impulse nothing may restrain — 232 

Or whence the joy 'mid cokimns, towers, 
Midst all the city's artful trim, 
To rear some breathless vapid flowers ^ 
Or shrubs fuliginously grim 1 
From rooms of silken foliage vain, 
To trace the dun far distant grove. 
Where, smit with undissembled pain, 
The woodlark mourns her absent love, 240 

Borne to the dusty town from native air. 
To mimic rural life, and soothe some vapour'd fair ■? 

But how must faithless Art prevail, 
Should all who taste our joy sincere. 
To virtue, truth, or science, dear, 
Forego a court's alluring pale. 
For dimpled brook and leafy grove. 
For that rich luxury of thought they love ! 
Ah, no ! from these the public sphere requires 

Examples for its giddy bauds ; 250 

From these impartial Heaven demands 
To spread the flame itself inspires ; 
To sift Opinion's mingled mass. 
Impress a nation's taste, and bid the sterling pass. 

Happy, thrice happy they. 
Whose graceful deeds have exemplary shone 
Round the gay precincts of a throne, 
With mild efifective beams ! 
Who bands of fair ideas bring. 
By solemn grot, or shady spring, 260 

To join their pleasing dreams ! 
Theirs is the rural bliss without alloy ; 
They only that deserve, enjoy. 

' ' Vapid flowers : ' Cowper reproduces these thoughts in the 4th Book of 
' The Task,' line 750. 



134 ODES, ETC. 

What though nor fabled Drjacl haunt their grove, 264 

Nor Naiad near their fountain rove '? 
Yet all embodied to the mental sight, 

A train of smiling Virtues bright 

Shall there the wise retreat allow, 
Shall twine triumphant palms to deck the wanderer's brow. 

And though by faithless friends alarm'd, 27o 

Art have with Nature waged presumptuous war, 
By Seymour's winning influence charm'd, 
In whom their gifts united shine, 

No longer shall their councils jar. 
'Tis hers to mediate the peace ; 

Near Percy-lodge, with awe-struck mien, 
The rebel seeks her lawful queen, 
And havoc and contention cease. 
I see the rival powers combine, 
And aid each other's fair design : 280 

Nature exalt the mound where Art shall build ; 
Art shape the gay alcove, while Nature paints the field. 

Begin, ye songsters of the grove ! 
warble forth your noblest lay : 

Where Somerset vouchsafes to rove. 
Ye leverets ! freely sport and play. 
— Peace to the strepent horn ! 
Let no harsh dissonance disturb the Morn ; 
No sounds inelegant and rude 
Her sacred solitudes profane ! 290 

Unless her candour not exclude 
The lowly shepherd's votive strain. 
Who tunes his reed amidst his rural cheer, 
Fearful, yet not averse, that Somerset should hear. 



ODES, ETC. 135 



ODE TO INDOLENCE, 1750. 

1 Ah ! why for ever on the wing 
Persists my wearied soul to roam "? 
Why, ever cheated, strives to bring 
Or pleasure or contentment home "? 

2 Thus the poor bird, that draws his name 
From Paradise's honour'd groves, 
Careless fatigues his little frame. 

Nor finds the resting-place he loves. 

3 Lo ! on the rural mossy bed 

Mj limbs with careless ease reclined ; 
Ah, gentle Sloth ! indulgent spread 
The same soft bandage o'er my mind. 

4 For why should lingering thought invade, 
Yet every worldly prospect cloy '^ 

Lend me, soft Sloth ! thy friendly aid. 
And give me peace, debarr'd of joy. 

5 Lov'st thou yon calm and silent flood, 
That never ebbs, that never flows ; 
Protected by the circling wood 

From each tempestuous wind that blows ? 

6 An altar on its bank shall rise, 
Where oft thy votary shall be found; 
What time pale Autumn lulls the skies, 
And sickening verdure fades around. 



136 ODES, ETC. 

7 Ye busy Race ! ye factious Train ! 
That haunt ambition's guilty shrine ; 
No more perplex the world in vain, 
But offer here your vows with mine. 

8 And thou, puissant Queen ! be kind : 
If e'er I shared thy balmy power, 

If e'er I sway'd my active mind 
To weave for thee the rural bower ; 

9 Dissolve in sleep each anxious care ; 
Each unavailing sigh remove ; 
And only let me wake to share 
The sweets of friendship and of love. 



ODE TO A YOUNG LADY, 

SOMEWHAT TOO SOLICITOUS ABOUT HER MANNER OF 
EXPRESSION. 

1 Survey, my Fair ! that lucid stream, 
Adown the smiling valley stray ; 
Would Art attempt, or Fancy dream, 
To regulate its winding way ? 

2 So pleased I view thy shining hair 
In loose dishevell'd ringlets flow; 
Not all thy art, not all thy care, 
Can there one single grace bestow. 



ODES, ETC. 137 

3 Survey again that verdant hill, 
With native plants enamell'd o'er ; 
Say, can the painter's utmost skill 
Instruct one flower to please us more ? . 

4 As vain it were, with artful dye, 

To change the bloom thy cheeks disclose ; 
And, oh ! may Laura, ere she try, 
With fresh vermilion paint the rose. 

5 Hark, how the woodlark's tuneful throat 
Can every studied grace excel ! 

Let Art constrain the rambling note, 
And will she, Laura, please so well 1 

6 Oh ! ever keep thy native ease, 
By no pedantic law confined ; 

For Laura's voice is form'd to please, 
So Laura's words be not unkind. 



WRITTEN IN A FLOWER BOOK OF MY OWN 
COLOURING, 

DESIGNED FOR LADY PLYMOUTH. 1753-4. 
Debitse nympliis opifex coronEe. — Hor. 

Bring, Flora, bring thy treasures here. 
The pride of all the blooming year ; 
And let me thence a garland frame, 
To crown this fair, this peerless dame ! 

But, ah ! since envious Winter lowers, 
And Ilewell meads resign their flowers, 



138 ODES, ETC. 

Let Art and Friendship's joint essay 
Diffuse their flowerets in her way. 
Not Nature can, herself, prepare 
A worthy wreatli for Lesbia's hair, 
Whose temper, like her forehead, smooth, 
Whose thoughts and accents form'd to soothe, 
AVhose pleasing mien, and make refined. 
Whose artless breast, and polish'd mind, 
From all the nymphs of plain or grove, 
Deserved and won by Plymouth's love ! 



THE DYING KID. 

Optima quseque dies miseris mortalibus aevi 
Prima fugit 

ViRQ. 

1 A tear bedews my Delia's eye. 

To think yon playful kid must die ; 
From crystal spring, and flowery mead. 
Must, in his prime of life, recede ! 

2 Ere while, in sportive circles round 

She saw him wheel, and frisk, and bound ! 
From rock to rock pursue his way, 
And on the fearful margin play. 

3 Pleased on his various freaks to dwell, 
She saw him climb my rustic cell ; 
Thence eye my lawns with verdure bright, 
And seem'd all ravish'd at the sight. 



ODES, ETC. 139 

4 She tells with what delight he stood, 
To trace his features in the flood : 
Then skipp'd aloof with quaint amaze, 
And then drew near again to gaze. 

5 She tells me how with eager speed 
He flew to hear mj vocal reed ; 
And how, with critic face profound, 
And steadfast ear, devour'd the sound. 

6 His every frolic, light as air, 
Deserves the gentle Delia's care ; 
And tears bedew her tender eye, 
To think the playful kid must die. 

7 But knows my Delia, timely wise, 
How soon this blameless era flies ; 
While violence and craft succeed. 
Unfair design, and ruthless deed ■? 

8 Soon would the vine his wounds deplore. 
And yield her purple gifts no more ; 

Ah ! soon erased from every grove 
Were Delia's name, and Strephon's love. 

9 No more those bowers might Strephon see, 
Where first he fondly gazed on thee ; 

No more those beds of flowerets find. 
Which for thy charming brows he twined. 

10 Each wayward passion soon would tear 
His bosom, now so void of care ; 
And, when they left his ebbing vein, 
What, but insipid age, remain 1 



140 ODES, ETC. 

1 1 Then mourn not the decrees of Fate, 
That gave his life so short a date ; 
And I will join my tendcrest sighs, 
To think that youth so swiftly flies ! 



ODE. 

1 So dear my Lucio is to me, 

So well our minds and tempers blend, 
That seasons may for ever flee, 

And ne'er divide me from my friend ; 
But let the favour'd boy forbear 
To tempt with love my only fair. 

2 Lycon ! born when every Muse, 

When every Grace, benignant smiled, 
With all a parent's breast could choose 

To bless her loved, her only child ; 
'Tis thine, so richly graced, to prove 
More noble cares than cares of love. 

8 Together we from early youth 

Have trod the flowery tracks of time, 
Together mused in search of truth, 

O'er learned sage, or bard sublime ; 
And well thy cultured breast I know. 
What wondrous treasure it can show ! 

4 Come, then, resume thy charming lyre, 
And sing some patriot's worth sublime. 
Whilst I in fields of soft desire 

Consume my fair and fruitless prime ; 



ODES, ETC. 141 

Whose reed aspires but to display 
The flame that burns me night and day. 

5 come ! the Dryads of the woods 

Shall daily soothe thy studious mind, 
The blue-eyed nymphs of yonder floods 

Shall meet and court thee to be kind ; 
And Fame sits listening for thy lays 
To swell her trump with Lucio's praise. 

6 Like me, the plover fondly tries 

To lure the sportsman from her nest. 
And fluttering on with anxious cries. 

Too plainly shows her tortured breast ; 
let him, conscious of her care. 
Pity her pains, and learn to spare. 



ODE. 

TO BE PERFORMED BY DR BRETTLE, AND A CHORUS OF 
HALES-OWEN CITIZENS. THE INSTRUMEISTAL PART A 
VIOL d'aMOUR. 

Air by the Doctor. 

Awake ! I say, awake, good people ! 

And be for once alive and gay ; 
Come, let 's be merry ; stir the tipple ; 

How can you sleep 
Whilst I do play % How can you sleep ? &c. 



142 ODES, ETC. 

Chorus of Citizens. 
Pardon, pardon, great Musician! 
On drowsy souls some pity take, 
For wondrous hard is our condition. 
To drink thy beer, 
Thy strains to hear ; 
To drink. 
To hear. 
And keep awake ! 

Solo by the Doctor. 

Hear but this strain — 'twas made by Handel, 
A wight of skill and judgment deep 1 

Zoonters, they 're gone — Sal, bring a candle — 
No, here is one, and he 's asleep. 



Duet. 

Dr. How could they go 
Whilst I do play 1 

Sal. How could they go ! 

How should they stay ? 



[^Soft music. 
[ Warlike music. 



COMPARISON. 



'Tis by comparison we know 
On every object to bestow 

Its proper share of praise : 
Did each alike perfection bear, 
AVhat beauty, though divinely fair, 

Could admiration raise "? 



ODES, ETC. 143 

Amidst the lucid bands of night, 
See ! Hesperus, serenely bright, 

Adorns the distant skies : 
But languishes amidst the blaze 
Of sprightly Sol's meridian rays, — 

Or Silvia's brighter eyes. 

Whene'er the nightingale complains, 
I like the melancholy strains, 

And praise the tuneful bird : 
But vainly might she strain her throat. 
Vainly exalt each swelling note. 

Should Silvia's voice be heard. 

When, on the violet's purple bed, 
Supine I rest my weary head. 

The fragrant pillow charms : 
Yet soon such languid bliss I 'd fly, 
Would Silvia but the loss supply, 

And take me to her arms. 

The alabaster's wondrous white. 
The marble's polish strikes my sight, 

When Silvia is not seen : 
But ah ! how faint that white is grown. 
How rough appears the polish'd stone, 

Compared with Silvia's mien ! 

The rose, that o'er the Cyprian plains, 
With flowers enamell'd, blooming reigns. 

With undisputed power, 
Placed near her cheek's celestial red 
(Its purple lost, its lustre fled). 

Delights the sense no more. 



144 ODES, ETC. 



LOVE AND MUSIC. 

WRITTEN AT OXFORD, WHEN YOUNG. 

1 Shall Love alone for ever claim 
An universal right to fame, 

An undisputed sway "? 
Or has not Music equal charms, 
To fill the breast with strange alarms, 

And make the world obey? 

2 The Thracian bard, as poets tell. 
Could mitigate the powers of hell, 

Even Pluto's nicer ear: 
His arts, no more than Love's, we find 
To deities or men confined. 

Drew brutes in crowds to hear. 

3 Whatever favourite passion reign'd. 
The poet still his right maiutain'd 

O'er all that ranged the plain : 
The fiercer tyrants could assuage, 
Or fire the timorous into rage, 

Whene'er he changed the strain. 

4 In milder lays the bard began ; 
Soft notes through every finger ran, 

And echoing charm'd the place : 
See ! fawning lions gaze around. 
And, taught to quit their savage sound. 

Assume a gentler grace. 



ODES, ETC. 145 

5 When Cymon vievv'd the fair one's charms, 
Her ruby lips, and snowy arms, 

And told her beauties o'er : 
When Love reform'd his awkward tone. 
And made each clownish gesture known, 

It show'd but equal power. 

6 The bard now tries a sprightlier sound, 
When all the feather'd race around 

Perceived the varied strains; 
The soaring lark the note pursues; 
The timorous dove around him coos, 

And Philomel complains. 

7 An equal power of Love I 've seen, 
Incite the deer to scour the green. 

And chase his barking foe. 
Sometimes has Love, with greater might, 
To challenge — nay — sometimes — to fight, 

Provoked the enamour'd beau. 

8 When Silvia treads the smiling plain, 
How glows the heart of every swain, 

By pleasing tumults tost ! 
When Handel's solemn accents roll. 
Each breast is fired, each raptured soul 

In sweet confusion lost. 

9 If she her melting glances dart, 
Or he his dying airs impart, 

Our spirits sink away. 
Enough, enough! dear nymph, give o'er; 
And thou, great artist ! urge no more 

Thy unresisted sway. 

K 



146 ODES, ETC. 

10 Thus Love or Sound affects the mind : 
But when their various powers are join'd, 

Fly, daring mortal, fly ! 
For when Selinda's charms appear, 
And I her tunefid accents hear — 

I burn, I faint, I die ! 



ODE TO CYNTHIA, 

ON THE APPROACH OF SPRING, 

1 Now in the cowslip's dewy cell 

The fairies make their bed, 
They hover round the crystal well. 
The turf in circles tread. 

2 The lovely linnet now her song 

Tunes sweetest in the wood ; 
The twittering swallow skims along 
The azure liquid flood. 

3 The morning breeze wafts Flora's kiss 

In fragrance to the sense ; 
The happy shepherd feels the bliss, 
And she takes no offence. 

4 But not the linnet's sweetest song 

That ever fiU'd the wood ; 
Or twittering swallow that along 
The azure liquid flood 



ODES, ETC. 147 

5 Skims swiftly, harbinger of spring, 
Or morning's sweetest breath. 
Or Flora's kiss, to me can bring 
A remedy for death. 

6 For death — what do I say 1 Yes, death 

Must surely end my days, 
If cruel Cynthia slights my faith, 
And will not hear my lays. 

7 No more with festive garlands bound, 

I at the wake shall be ; 
No more my feet shall press the ground 
In dance with wonted glee ; 

8 No more my little flock I '11 keep. 

To some dark cave I '11 fly ; 

I've nothing now to do but weep. 

To mourn my fate, and sigh. 

9 Ah! Cynthia, thy Damon's cries 

Are heard at dead of night ; 
But they, alas ! are doom'd to rise 
Like smoke upon the sight. 

10 They rise in vain, ah me ! in vain 

Are scatter' d in the wind ; 

Cynthia does not know the pain 

That rankles in my mind. 

11 If sleep perhaps my eyelids close, 

'Tis but to dream of you ; 
A while I cease to feel my woes, 
Nay, think I 'm happy too. 



148 ODES, ETC. 

12 1 think I press with kisses pure, 

Your lovely rosy lips ; 
And you 're my bride, I think I 'm sure, 
Till gold the mountain tips. 

13 When waked, aghast I look around. 

And find my charmer flown ; 
Then bleeds afresh my galling wound, 
While I am left alone. 

1 4 Take pity, then, gentlest maid ! 

On thy poor Damon's heart : 

Remember what I 've often said, 

'Tis you can cure my smart. 



SONGS AND BALLADS. 



A PASTORAL BALLAD. 

IN FOUR PARTS. 
Arbusta humilesque myricae. 

ViEO. 

Explanation. 
Groves and lowly shrubs. 

I. ABSENCE. 

Ye Shepherds ! so cheerful and gaj, 
Whose flocks neyer carelessly roam, 
Should Corydon's happen to stray, 
Oh ! call the poor wanderers home. 
Allow me to muse and to sigh, 
Nor talk of the change that ye find ; 
None once was so watchful as I : 
— I have left my dear Phillis behind. 

Now I know what it is, to have strove 
With the torture of doubt and desire ; 
What it is to admire and to love. 
And to leave her we love and admire. 
Ah ! lead forth my flock in the morn, 
And the damps of each evening repel. 



150 SONGS AND BALLADS. 

Alas ! I am faint and forlorn : 

— I have bade my dear Phillis farewell. 

3 Since Phillis vouchsafed me a look, 
I never once dreamt of my vine : 

May I lose both my pipe and my crook, 
If I knew of a kid that was mine. 
I prized every hour that went by 
Beyond all that had pleased me before ; 
But now they are past, and I sigh, 
And I grieve that I prized them no more. 

4 But why do I languish in vain *? 
Why wander thus pensively here '? 
Oh ! why did I come from the plain, 
Where I fed on the smiles of my dear ? 
They tell me my favourite maid, 

The pride of that valley, is flown ; 
Alas ! where with her I have stray'd 
I could wander with pleasure, alone. 

5 When forced the fair nymph to forego. 
Wharf; anguish I felt at my heart ! 

Yet I thought — but it might not be so — 
'Twas with pain that she saw me depart. 
She gazed as I slowly withdrew ; 
My path I could hardly discern : 
So sweetly she bade me adieu, 
I thought that she bade me return. 

6 The pilgrim that journeys all day 
To visit some far-distant shrine. 
If he bear but a relic away. 

Is happy, nor heard to repine. 



SONGS AND BALLADS. 151 



Thus widely removed from the fair, 
Where my vows, my devotion, I owe, 
Soft hope is the relic I bear, 
And my solace, wherever I go. 



IL HOPE. 

1 My banks they are furnish'd with bees, 
Whose murmur invites one to sleep ; 
My grottos are shaded with trees, 
And my hills are white over with sheep. 
I seldom have met with a loss. 

Such health do my fountains bestow ; 
My fountains all border'd with moss, 
Where the harebells and violets grow. 

2 Not a pine in the grove is there seen, 
But with tendrils of woodbine is bound ; 
Not a beech's more beautiful green 

But a sweetbriar entwines it around : 
Not my fields in the prime of the year. 
More charms than my cattle unfold ; 
Not a brook that is limpid and clear, 
But it glitters with fishes of gold. 

3 One would think she might like to retire 
To the bower I have labour'd to rear : 
Not a shrub that I heard her admire. 
But I hasted and planted it there. 

how sudden the jessamine strove 
With the lilac to render it gay ! 
Already it calls for my love 
To prune the wild branches away. 



152 SONGS AND BALLADS. 

4 From the plains, from the woodlands, and groves, 
What strains of wild melody flow ! 

How the nightingales warble their loves 
From thickets of roses that blow ! 
And when her bright form shall appear, 
Each bird shall harmoniously join 
In a concert so soft and so clear, 
As — she may not be fond to resign. 

5 I have found out a gift for my fair ; 

I have found where the wood-pigeons breed ; 
But let me that plunder forbear, 
She will say 'twas a barbarous deed : 
For he ne'er could be true, she averr'd, 
Who could rob a poor bird of its young ; 
And I loved her the more when I heard 
Such tenderness fall from her tongue. 

6 I have heard her with sweetness unfold 
How that pity was due to — a dove ; 
That it ever attended the bold, 

And she call'd it the sister of Love. 
But her words such a pleasure convey, 
So much I her accents adore, 
Let her speak, and whatever she say, 
Methinks I should love her the more. 

7 Can a bosom so gentle remain 
Unmoved, when her Corydon sighs 1 
Will a nymph that is fond of the plain, 
These plains and this valley despise 1 
Dear regions of silence and shade ! 
Soft scenes of contentment and ease ! 



SONGS AND BALLADS. 153 

Where I could have pleasingly stray'd, 
If aught in her absence could please. 

8 But where does my Phyllida stray ? 
And ^vhere are her grots and her bowers 1 
Are the groves and the valleys as gay, 
And the shepherds as gentle as ours '? 
The groves may perhaps be as fair, 
And the face of the valleys as fine ; 
The swains may in manners compare, 
But their love is not equal to mine. 

in. SOLICITUDE. 

1 Why will you my passion reprove "? 
Why term it a folly to grieve 1 

Ere I show you the charms of my love, 
She is fairer than you can believe. 
With her mien she enamours the brave ; 
With her wit she engages the free ; 
With her modesty pleases the grave ; 
She is every way pleasing to me. 

2 you that have been of her train. 
Come and join in my amorous lays ! 

I could lay down my life for the swain. 
That will sing but a song in her praise. 
When he sings, may the nymphs of the town 
Come trooping, and listen the while ; 
Nay, on him let not Phyllida fi-own, — 
But I cannot allow her to smile. 

3 For when Paridel tries, in the dance, 
Any favour with Phyllis to find. 



154 SONGS AND BALLADS. 

how, with one trivial glance, 
Might she ruin the peace of my mind 1 
In ringlets he dresses his hair. 
And his crook is bestudded around ; 
And his pipe — oh, my Phyllis, beware 
Of a magic there is in the sound ! 

4 'Tis his with mock passion to glow ; 
'Tis his in smooth tales to unfold, 

" How her face is as briglit as the snow, 
And her bosom, be sure, is as cold : 
How the nightingales labour the strain. 
With the notes of his charmer to vie ; 
How they vary their accents in vain. 
Repine at her triumphs, and die." 

5 To the grove or the garden he strays, 
And pillages every sweet ; 

Then suiting the wreath to his lays. 
He throws it at Phyllis's feet. 
"0 Phyllis!" he whispers, "more fair, 
More sweet than the jessamine's flower! 
What are pinks in the morn to compare? 
What is eglantine after a shower"? 

6 " Then the lilly no longer is white, 
Then the rose is deprived of its bloom. 
Then the violets die with despight. 

And the woodbines give up their perfume." 
Thus glide the soft numbers along, 
And he fancies no shepherd his peer ; 
— Yet I never should on\y the song. 
Were not Phyllis to lend it an ear. 



SONGS AND BALLADS. 155 

Let his crook be with hyacinths bound. 
So Phyllis the trophy despise ; 
Let his forehead with laurels be crown'd, 
So they shine not in Phyllis's eyes. 
The language that flows from the heart, 
Is a stranger to Paridel's tongue : 
— Yet may she beware of his art, 
Or sure I must envy the song. 



IV. DISAPPOINTMENT. 

Ye Shepherds ! give ear to my lay, 
And take no more heed of my sheep ; 
They have nothing to do but to stray ; 
I have nothing to do but to weep. 
Yet do not my folly reprove ; 
She was fair — and my passion begun ; 
She smiled — and I could not but love : 
She is faithless — and I am undone. 

Perhaps I was void of all thought ; 

Perhaps it was plain to foresee, 

That a nymph so complete would be sought 

By a swain more engaging than me. ^ ( [ v- io ( 

Ah ! love every hope can inspire ; 

It banishes wisdom the while ; 

And the lip of the nymph we admire 

Seems for ever adorn'd with a smile. 



3 She is faithless, and I am undone : 
Ye that witness the woes I endure, 
Let reason instruct you to shun 
What it cannot instruct you to cure. 



156 SONGS AND BALLADS. 

Beware how you loiter in vain 
Amid njmplis of a higher degree ; 
It is not for me to explain 
IIow fair and how fickle they be. 

4 Alas! from the day that we met, 
What hope of an end to my woes 'i 
When I cannot endure to forget 
The glance that undid my repose. 
Yet time may diminish the pain : 

The flower, and the shrub, and the tree, 
Which I rear'd for her pleasure in vain. 
In time may have comfort for me. 

5 The sweets of a dew-sprinkled rose, 
The sound of a murmuring stream. 
The peace which from solitude flows, 
Henceforth shall be Corydon's theme. 
High transports are shown to the sight, 
But we 're not to find them our own. 
Fate never bes'tow'd such delight 

As I with my Phyllis had known. 

6 ye woods ! spread your branches apace, 
To your deepest recesses I fly ; 

I would hide with the beasts of the chase ; 
I would vanish from every eye. 
Yet my reed shall resound through the grove 
With the same sad complaint it begun ; 
How she smiled, and I could not but love ; 
Was faithless, and I am undone ! 



SONGS AND BALLADS. 157 



THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH. 

A BALLAD, ALLUDING TO A STORY RECORDED OF HER WHEN 
SHE WAS PRISONER AT WOODSTOCK, 1554. 

1 Will you hear how once repining 

Great Eliza captive lay 1 
Each ambitious thought resigning, 
Foe to riches, pomp, and sway. 

2 While the nymphs and swains delighted 

Tript around in all their pride, 
Envying joys by others slighted, 
Thus the royal maiden cried : 

3 " Bred on plains, or born in valleys. 

Who would bid those scenes adieu 1 
Stranger to the arts of malice. 
Who would ever courts pursue 1 

4 " Malice never taught to treasure, 

Censure never taught to bear ; 
Love is all the shepherd's pleasure ; 
Love is all the damsel's care. 

5 " How can they of humble station 

Vainly blame the powers above 1 
Or accuse the dispensation 

Which allows them all to love 1 

6 " Love, like air, is widely given ; 

Power nor chance can these restrain ; 
Truest, noblest gifts of Heaven ! 
Only purest on the plain ! 



158 SONGS AND BALLADS. 

7 " Peers can no such charms discover, 

All in stars and garters drest, 
As on Sundays does the lover 
With his nosegaj on his breast. 

8 " Pinks and roses in profusion, 

Said to fade when Chloe's near ; 
Fops may use the same allusion, 
But the shepherd is sincere. 

9 " Hark to yonder milkmaid singing 

Cheerily o'er the brimming pail. 
Cowslips all around are springing, 
Sweetly paint the golden vale. 

10 " Never yet did courtly maiden 
Move so sprightly, look so fair : 
Never breast with jewels laden 
Pour a song so void of care. 

11" Would indulgent Pleaven had granted 
Me some rural damsel's part ! 
All the empire I had wanted 

Then had been my shepherd's heart, 

12" Then, with him, o'er hills and mountains. 
Free from fetters, might I rove. 
Fearless taste the crystal fountains. 
Peaceful sleep beneath the grove. 

13 " Rustics had been more forgiving, 
Partial to my virgin bloom ; 
None had envied me when living ; 
None had triumph'd o'er my tomb." 



SONGS AND BALLADS. 159 



NANCY OF THE VALE. 



A BALLAD. 



Nerine Galatea ! thymo mihi dulcior Hyblae! 
Candidior cygnis ! hedera formosior alba ! 



1 The western sky was purpled o'er 

With every pleasing ray ; 
And flocks reviving felt no more 
The sultry heats of day ; 

2 When from an hazel's artless bower 

Soft warbled Strephon's tongue ; 
He blest the scene, he blest the hour, 
While Nancy's praise he sung. 

3 " Let fops with fickle falsehood range 

The paths of wanton love, 
While weeping maids lament their change, 
And sadden every grove : 

4 " But endless blessings crown the day 

I saw fair Esham's dale ! 
And every blessing find its way 
To Nancy of the Vale. 

5 " 'Twas from Avona's banks the maid 

Diffused her lovely beams, 
And every shining glance display'd 
The Naiad of the streams. 



160 SONGS AND BALLADS. 

6 " Soft as the wild-duck's tender young, 

That float on Avon's tide ; 
Bright as the water-lilj, sprung, 
And glittering near its side : 

7 " Fresh as the bordering flowers her bloom, 

Her eje all mild to view ; 
The little halcyon's azure plume 
Was never half so blue. 

8 " Her shape was like the reed so sleek, 

So taper, strait, and fair; 
Her dimpled smile, her blushing cheek, 
How charming sweet they were ! 

9 " Far in the winding vale retired, 

This peerless bud I found, 
And shadowing rocks and woods conspired 
To fence her beauties round. 

10 " That Nature in so lone a dell 

Should form a nymph so sweet ! 
Or Fortune to her secret cell 
Conduct my wandering feet ! 

11" Gay lordlings sought her for their bride, 
But she would ne'er incHne : 
' Prove to your equals true/ she cried, 
' As I will prove to mine. 

12 " ' 'Tis Strephon, on the mountain's brow. 
Has won my right good will ; 
To him I gave my plighted vow. 
With him I '11 climb the hill.' 



SONGS AND BALLADS. 161 

13 " Struck with lier charms and gentle truth, 

I clasp'd the constant fair; 
To her alone I gave mj youth, 
And vow my future care. 

14 " And when this vow shall faithless prove. 

Or I those charms forego; 
The stream that saw our tender love. 
That stream shall cease to flow." 



THE RAPE OF THE TRAP. 

A BALLAD, 1737. 

'Twas in a land of learning, 
The Muse's favourite city. 

Such pranks of late 

Were play'd by a rat, 
As — tempt one to be witty. 

All in a college study, 

Where books were in great plenty ; 

This rat would devour 

More sense in an hour. 
Than I could write — in twenty. 

Corporeal food, 'tis granted, 
Serves vermin less refined. Sir ; 

But this, a rat of taste, 

All other rats surpass'd, 
And he prey'd on the food of the mind. Sir. 

L 



162 SONGS AND BALLADS. 

4 His breakfast, half the morning 
He constantly attended ; 

And when the bell rung 
For evening song, 
His dinner scarce was ended ! 

5 He spared not even heroics, 
On which we poets pride us, 

And would make no more 
Of King Arthurs, ^ by the score, 
Than — all the world beside does. 

6 In books of geography 

He made the maps to flutter ; 
A river or a sea 
Was to him a dish of tea ; 

And a kingdom, bread and butter. 

7 But if some mawkish potion 
Might chance to overdose him, 

To check its rage. 
He took a page 
Of logic — to compose him — 

8 A Trap, in haste and anger. 

Was brought, you need not doubt on 't, 

And, such was the gin. 

Were a lion once got in. 
He could not, I think, get out on 't. 

9 With cheese, not books, 'twas baited ; 
The fact— I '11 not behe it— 

' By Blackmore. 



SONGS AND BALLADS. 163 

Since none — I tell you that — 
Whether scholar or rat, 
Minds books when he has other diet. 

10 But more of Trap and bait, Sir, 
Why should I sing, or either'? 

Since the rat, who knew the sleight, 
Came in the dead of night, 
And dragg'd them away together. 

1 1 Both Trap and bait were vanished 
Through a fracture in the flooring ; 

Which though so trim 
It now may seem 
Had then — a dozen or more in. 

1 2 Then answer this, ye sages ! 
Nor deem I mean to wrong ye, 

Had the rat, which thus did seize on 
The Trap, less claim to reason. 
Than many a skull among ye 1 . 

13 Dan Prior's mice, I own it, 
Were vermin of condition ; 

But this rat, who merely learn'd 
What rats alone concern'd. 
Was the greater politician. 

14 That England's topsyturvy 

Is clear from these mishaps. Sir ; 

Since Traps, we may determine. 

Will no longer take our vermin, 
But vermin ^ take our Traps, Sir. 

* Written at the time of the Spanish depreciations. 



164 SONGS AND BALLADS. 

15 Let sophs, by rats infested, 
Then trust in cats to catch them. 

Lest thej grow as learn'd as we 
In our studies ; where, d' ye see, 
No mortal sits to watch them. 

16 Good hick betide our captains, 
Good hick betide our cats, Sir, 

And grant that the one 
May quell the Spanish Don, 
And the other destroy our rats, Sir. 



JEMMY DAWSON. 



A BALLAD. 

WRITTEN ABOUT THE TIME OF HIS EXECUTION, IN THE YEAR 1745. 

1 Come listen to my mournful tale, 
Ye tender hearts and lovers dear ! 
Nor will you scorn to heave a sigh, 
Nor need you blush to shed a tear. 

2 And thou dear Kitty ! peerless maid ! 
Do thou a pensive car incline ; 

For thou canst weep at every woe, 
And pity every plaint — but mine. 

3 Young Dawson was a gallant boy, 
A brighter never trod the plain ; 
And well he loved one charming maid, 
And dearly was he loved again. 



SONGS AND BALLADS. 165 

4 One tender maid, slie loved him dear ; 
Of gentle blood the damsel came ; 
And faultless was her beauteous form, 
And spotless was her virgin fame. 

5 But curse on party's hateful strife. 
That led the favour'd youth astray ; 
The day the rebel clans appear'd — 
had he never seen that day ! 

6 Their colours and their sash he wore. 
And in the fatal dress was found ; 
And now he must that death endure 
Which gives the brave the keenest wound. 

7 How pale was then his true love's cheek. 
When Jemmy's sentence reach'd her ear ! 
For never yet did Alpine snows 

So pale, or yet so chill appear. 

8 With faltering voice she, weeping, said, 
" Dawson ! monarch of my heart ! 
Think not thy death shall end our loves, 
For thou and I will never part. 

9 " Yet might sweet mercy find a place, 
And bring relief to Jemmy's woes, 

George ! without a prayer for thee. 
My orisons should never close. 

10 " The gracious prince that gave him life. 
Would crown a never-dying flame ; 
And every tender babe I bore 
Should learn to lisp the giver's name. 



166 SONGS AND BALLADS. 

11" But though he should be dragg'd in scorn 
To yonder ignominious tree ; 
He shall not want one constant friend 
To share the cruel Fates' decree." 

12 Oh ! then her mourning coach -was call'd ; 
The sledge moved slowly on before ; 
Though borne in a triumphal car, 

She had not loved her favomite more. 

13 She follow'd him, prepared to view 
The terrible behests of law ; 

And the last scene of Jemmy's woes. 
With calm and steadfast eye she saw. 

14 Distorted was that blooming face. 
Which she had fondly loved so long ; 
And stifled was that tuneful breath, 
Which in her praise had sweetly sung : 

15 And sever'd was that beauteous neck. 
Round which her arms had fondly closed ; 
And mangled was that beauteous breast, 
On which her lovesick head reposed : 

16 And ravish'd was that constant heart, 
She did to every heart prefer ; 

For though it could its king forget, 
'Twas true and loyal still to her. 

17 Amid those unrelenting flames 

She bore this constant heart to see ; 
But when 'twas moulder'd into dust, 
" Yet, yet," she cried, " I follow thee. 



SONGS AND BALLADS. 167 

18 " Mj death, my death alone can show 
The pure, the lasting love I bore : 
Accept, Heaven ! of woes like ours. 
And let us, let us weep no more." 

19 The dismal scene was o'er and past. 
The lover's mournful hearse retired ; 
The maid drew back her languid head, 
And, sighing forth his name, expired. 

20 Though justice ever must prevail. 
The tear my Kitty sheds is due ; 
For seldom shall she hear a tale 
So sad, so tender, yet so true. 



A BALLAD. 

Trahit sua quemque voluptas. — Hor. 



1 From Lincoln to London rode forth our young squire, 
To bring down a wife whom the swains might admire ; 
But, in spite of whatever the mortal could say, 

The goddess objected the length of the way. 

2 To give up the opera, the park, and the ball, 

For to view the stag's horns in an old country hall ; 

To have neither China nor India to see. 

Nor a laceman to plague in a morning — not she ! 

3 To forsake the dear playhouse, Quin, Garrick, and Clive, 
Who by dint of mere humour had kept her alive ; 

To forego the full box for his lonesome abode, 

Heavens! she should faint, she should die on the road! 



1 68 SONGS AND BALLADS. 

4 To forget the gay fashions and gestures of France, 
And to leave dear Auguste in the midst of the dance, 
And Harlequin too ! — 'twas in vain to require it. 
And she wonder'd how folks had the face to desire it. 

5 She might yield to resign the sweet singers of Ruckholt, 
AVhere the citizen matron seduces her cuckold ; 

But Ranelagh soon would her footsteps recall. 

And the music, the lamps, and the glare of Vauxhall. 

6 To be sure she could breathe nowhere else than in Town. 
Thus she talk'd like a wit, and he look'd like a clown ; 
But the while honest Harry despair'd to succeed, 

A coach with a coronet trail'd her to Tweed. 



SONG I.^ 

1 I told my nymph, I told her true. 

My fields were small, my flocks were few, 
While faltering accents spoke my fear, 
That Flavia might not prove sincere. 

2 Of crops destroy'd by vernal cold. 
And vagrant sheep that left my fold ; 
Of these she heard, yet bore to hear ; 
And is not Flavia then sincere ? 

3 How, changed by Fortune's fickle wind, 
The friends I loved became unkind; 
She heard, and shed a generous tear ; 
And is not Flavia then sincere ? 

^ These songs were written chiefly between the years 1737 and 1743. 



SONGS AND BALLADS. 169 

4 How, if she deign my love to bless, 
My Flavia must not hope for dress ; 
This, too, she heard, and smiled to hear ; 
And Flavia, sure, must be sincere. 

5 Go, shear your flocks, ye jovial Swains ! 
Go reap the plenty of your plains ; 
Despoil'd of all which you revere, 

I know my Flavia's love sincere. 



SONG II. 

THE LANDSCAPE. 



1 How pleased within my native bowers 

Erewhile I pass'd the day! 
Was ever scene so deck'd with flowers 1 
Were ever flowers so gay 1 

2 How sweetly smiled the hill, the vale, 

And all the landscape round! 
The river gliding down the dale, 
The hill with beeches crown'd ! 

3 But now, when urged by tender woes, 

I speed to meet my dear, 
That hill and stream my zeal oppose, 
And check my fond career. 

4 No more, since Daphne was my theme, 

Their wonted charms I see ; 
That verdant hill, and silver stream. 
Divide my love and me. 



1 70 SONGS AND BALLADS. 



SONG III. 

1 Ye geutle Nymphs and generous Dames, 
That rule o'er every British mind ! 

Be sure ye soothe their amorous flames, 
Be sui'e your laws are not unkind : 

2 For hard it is to wear their bloom 
In unremitting sighs away; 

To mourn the night's oppressive gloom. 
And faintly bless the rising day. 

3 And cruel 'twere a freeborn swain, 

A British youth, should vainly moan; 
Who, scornful of a tyrant's chain, 
Submits to yours, and yours alone. 

4 Nor pointed spear, nor links of steel, 
Could e'er those gallant minds subdue, 
Who Beauty's wounds with pleasure feel, 
And boast the fetters wrought by you. 



SONG IV. 

THE SKYLARK. 



1 Go, tuneful Bird ! that gladd'st the skies. 
To Daphne's window speed thy way ; 
And there on quivering pinions rise, 
And there thy vocal art display. 



SONGS AND BALLADS. 171 

2 And if she deign thy notes to hear, 
And if she praise thy matin song, 

Tell her the sounds that soothe her ear. 
To Damon's native plains belong. 

3 Tell her, in livelier plumes array'd, 

The bird from Indian groves may shine ; 
But ask the lovely partial maid. 
What are his notes compared to thine ! 

4 Then bid her treat yon witless beau, 
And all his flaunting race with scorn ; 
And lend an ear to Damon's woe. 
Who sings her praise, and sings forlorn. 



SONG V. 

Ah ! ego non aliter tristes evincere morbos 
Optarem, quam te sic quoque velle putem. 

1 On every tree, in every plain, 

I trace the jovial spring in vain; 
A sickly langour veils mine eyes, 
And fast my waning vigour flies. 

2 Nor flowery plain, nor budding tree, 
That smile on others, smile on me ; 
Mine eyes from death shall court repose, 
Nor shed a tear before they close. 

3 What bliss to me can seasons bring ? 
Or what the needless pride of spring 1 
The cypress bough, that suits the bier, 
Retains its verdure all the year. 



1 72 SONGS AND BALLADS. 

4 'Tis true, mj vine, so fresh and fair, 
Might claim awhile my wonted care ; 
My rural store some pleasure yield, 
So white a flock, so green a field ! 

5 My friends, that each in kindness vie. 
Might well expect one parting sigh ; 
Might well demand one tender tear; 
For when was Damon insincere 1 

6 But ere I ask once more to view 
Yon setting sun his race renew, 
Inform me, Swains ! my friends, declare, 
Will pitying Delia join the prayer'? 



SONG VI. 

THE ATTKIBUTE OF VENUS. 

1 Yes ; Fulvia is like Venus fair, 

Has all her bloom, and shape, and air ; 
But still, to perfect every grace. 
She wants — the smile upon her face. 

2 The crown majestic Juno wore ; 

And Cynthia's brow the crescent bore ; 
An helmet mark'd Minerva's mien ; 
But smiles distinguish'd Beauty's queen. 

3 Her train was form'd of Smiles and Loves ; 
Her chariot drawn by gentlest doves ; 
And from her zone, the nymph may find 
Tis Beauty's province to be kind. 



SONGS AND BALLADS. 173 

Then smile, mj Fair ! and all, whose aim 
Aspires to paint the Cyprian dame. 
Or bid her breathe in living stone. 
Shall take their forms from you alone. 



SONG VII. 1742. 

When bright Roxana treads the green, 
In all the pride of dress and mien, 
Averse to freedom, love, and play, 
The dazzling rival of the day ; 
None other beauty strikes mine eye. 
The lilies droop, the roses die. 

But when, disclaiming art, the fair 
Assumes a soft engaging air; 
Mild as the opening morn of May, 
Familiar, friendly, free and gay. 
The scene improves where'er she goes, 
More sweetly smile the pink and rose. 

lovely Maid ! propitious hear. 
Nor deem thy shepherd insincere ; 
Pity a wild illusive flame. 
That varies objects still the same ; 
And let their very changes prove 
The never-varied force of love. 



1 74 SONGS AND BALLADS. 



SONG VIII. 1743. 

valentine's day. 

1 Tis said that under distant skies, 

Nor you the fact deny, 
What first attracts an Indian's eyes 
Becomes his deity. 

2 Perhaps a lily, or a rose, 

That shares the morning's ray, 
May to the waking swain disclose 
The regent of the day. 

3 Perhaps a plant in yonder grove, 

Enrich'd with fragrant power, 
May tempt his vagrant eyes to rove 
Where blooms the sovereign flower. 

4 Perch'd on the cedar's topmost bough, 

And gay with gilded wings. 
Perchance, the patron of his vow, 
Some artless linnet sings. 

.5 The swain surveys her pleased, afraid. 
Then low to earth he bends ; 
And owns, upon her friendly aid. 
His health, his life depends. 

6 Vain futile idols, bird or flower, 
To tempt a votary's prayer I 



How would his humble homage tower 
Should he behold my fair ! 



SONGS AND BALLADS. 175 

Yes — might the Pagan's waking eyes, 

O'er Flavia's beauty range, 
He there would fix his lasting choice, 

Nor dare, nor wish, to change. 



SONG IX. 1743. 



1 The fatal hours are wondrous near, 
That from these fountains bear my dear ; 
A little space is given ; in vain : 

She robs my sight, and shuns the plain. 

2 A little space, for me to prove 

My boundless flame, my endless love ; 
And, like the train of vulgar hours, 
Invidious Time that space devours. 

3 Near yonder beech is Delia's way, 
On that I gaze the livelong day ; 
No eastern monarch's dazzling pride 
Should draw my longing eyes aside. 

4 The chief that knows of succours nigh. 
And sees his mangled legions die. 
Casts not a more impatient glance 

To see the loitering aids advance. 

5 Not more the schoolboy, that expires 
Far from his native home, requires 
To see some friend's familiar face. 
Or meet a parent's last embrace 



176 SONGS AND BALLADS. 

6 She comes — but, ah ! what crowds of beaus 
In radiant bands my fair enclose ! 

Oh ! better hadst thou shunn'd the green ; 
Oh, DeUa ! better far unseen. 

7 Methinks, by all my tender fears. 
By all my sighs, by all my tears, 

I might from torture now be free — 
'Tis more than death to part from thee ! 



SONG X. 1744. 



1 The lovely Delia smiles again ! 
That killing frown has left her brow ; 
Can she forgive my jealous pain, 
And give me back my angry vow ? 

2 Love is an April's doubtful day ; 
Awhile we see the tempest lower, 
Anon the radiant heaven sm'vey. 
And quite forget the flitting shower 

3 The flowers, that hung their languid head, 
Are burnish'd by the transient rains; 
The vines their wonted tendrils spread. 
And double verdure gilds the plains. 

4 The sprightly birds, that droop'd no less 
Beneath the power of rain and wind, 
In every raptured note express 

The joy I feel — when thou art kind. 



SONGS AND BALLADS. 177 



SONG XL 1744. 



1 Perhaps it is not love, said I, 

That melts my soul when Flavia's nigh ; 
Where wit and sense like hers agree, 
One may be pleased, and yet be free. 

2 The beauties of her polish'd mind 
It needs no lover's eye to find ; 
The hermit freezing in his cell 
Might wish the gentle Flavia well. 

3 It is not love — averse to bear 
The servile chain that lovers wear; 
Let, let me all my fears remove, 
My doubts dispel — it is not love. 

4 Oh ! when did wit so brightly shine 
In any form less fair than thine 1 
It is — it is love's subtle fire, 

And under friendship lurks desire. 



SONG XII. 1744. 

O'er desert plains, and rushy meres, 
And wither'd heaths I rove ; 

Where tree, nor spire, nor cot, appears, 
I pass to meet my love. 
M 



178 SONGS AND BALLADS. 

2 But, though mj path were damask'd o'er 
With beauties e'er so fine, 
My busy thoughts would fly before, 
To fix alone — on thine. 

'd No fir-crown'd hills could give delight, 
No palace please mine eye; 
No pyramid's aerial height, 

Where mould'ring monarchs lie. 

4 Unmoved, should Eastern kings advance, 
Could I the pageant see : 
Splendour might catch one scornful glance, 
Nor steal one thought from thee. 



SONG XIII. 1746. 

WINTER. 



1 No more, ye warbling birds ! rejoice 

Of all that cheer'd the plain. 
Echo alone preserves her voice. 
And she — repeats my pain. 

2 Where'er my lovesick limbs I lay 

To shun the rushing wind, 
Its busy murmurs seem to say, 
" She never will be kind!" 

3 The Naiads, o'er their frozen urns. 

In icy chains repine; 
And each in sullen silence mourns 
Her freedom lost, like mine ! 



SONGS AND BALLADS. 179 

4 Soon will the sun's returning rays 
The cheerless frost control; 
When -will relenting Delia chase 
The winter of my soul ? 



SONG XIV. 

THE scholar's RELAPSE. 



1 By the side of a grove, at the foot of a hill, 

Where whisper'd the beech, and where murmur'd the rill, 
I vow'd to the Muses my time and my care, 
Since neither could win me the smiles of my fair. 

2 Free I ranged like the birds, like the birds free I sung, 
And Delia's loved name scarce escaped from my tongue ; 
But if once a smooth accent delighted my ear, 

I should wish, unawares, that my Delia might hear. 

3 With fairest ideas my bosom I stored. 
Allusive to none but the nymph I adored; 
And the more I, with study, my fancy refined, 
The deeper impression she made on my mind. 

4 So long as of Nature the charms I pursue, 
I still must my Delia's dear image renew; 
The Graces have yielded with Delia to rove. 
And the Muses are all in alliance with Love. 



180 SONGS AND BALLADS. 

SONG XV. 
THE ROSE-BUD. 

1 " See, Daphne, see ! " Florelio cried, 
And learn the sad effects of pride ; 
Yon shelter'd rose, how safe conceal'd ! 
How quickly blasted when reveal'd ! 

2 " The sun with warm attractive rays 
Tempts it to w^anton in the blaze; 

A gale succeeds from eastern skies, 
And all its blushing radiance dies. 

3 " So you, my Fair ! of charms divine, 
AVill quit the plains, too fond to shine 
Where Fame's transporting rays allure, 
Though here more happy, more secure. 

4 " The breath of some neglected maid 
Shall make you sigh you left the shade ; 
A breath to beauty's bloom unkind, 
As, to the rose, an eastern wind." 

5 The nymph replied ! — " You first, my Swain ! 
Confine your sonnets to the plain ; 

One envious tongue alike disarms 
You of your wit, me of my charms. 

6 " What is, unknown, the poet's skill ? 
Or what, unheard, the tuneful thrill ? 
What, unadmired, a charming mien 1 
Or what the rose's blush unseen 1 " 



SONGS AND BALLADS. 181 

SONG XVI. 

DAPHNE'S VISIT. 

1 Ye birds ! for whom I rear'd the grove, 
With melting lay salute my love ; 

My Daphne with your notes detain, 
Or I have rear'd my grove in vain. 

2 Ye flowers ! before her footsteps rise : 
Display at once your brightest dyes; 
That she your opening charms may see, 
Or what are all your charms to me"? 

3 Kind Zephyr! brush each fragrant flower, 
And shed its odours round my bower; 
Or never more, gentle Wind! 

Shall I from thee refreshment find. 

4 Ye Streams ! if e'er your banks I loved, 
If e'er your native sounds improved, 
May each soft murmur soothe my fair, 
Or oh ! 'twill deepen my despair. 

5 And thou, my Grot! whose lonely bounds 
The melancholy pine surrounds. 

May Daphne praise thy peaceful gloom. 
Or thou shalt prove her Damon's tomb. 



182 SONGS AND BALLADS. 

SONG XVII. 
WRITTEN IN A COLLECTION OF BACCHANALIAN SONGS. 

1 Adieu, ye jovial Youths! whojoiu 
To plunge old Care in floods of wine ; 
And, as your dazzled eyeballs roll. 
Discern him struggling in the bowl. 

2 Nor yet is hope so wholly flown, 
Nor yet is thought so tedious grown, 
But limpid stream and sliady tree 
Retain, as yet, some sweets for me. 

3 And see, through yonder silent grove. 
See, yonder does my Daphne rove! 
With pride her footsteps I pursue, 
And bid your frantic joys adieu. 

4 The sole confusion I admire, 

Is that my Daphne's eyes inspire ; 
I scorn the madness you approve, 
And value reason next to love. 



SONG XVIII. 

IMITATED FROM THE FRENCH. 

1 Yes, these are the scenes where with Iris I stray'd, 
But short was her sway for so lovely a maid ! 
In the bloom of her youth to a cloister she run. 
In the bloom of her graces too fair for a nun ! 



SONGS AND BALLADS. 183 

Ill-grounded, no doubt, a devotion must prove, 
So fatal to beauty, so killing to love ! 

Yes, these are the meadows, the shrubs, and the plains, 
Once the scene of my pleasures, the scene of my pains; 
How many soft moments I spent in this grove ! 
How fair was my nymph! and how fervent my love! 
Be still though, my Heart! thine emotion give o'er; 
Remember, the season of love is no more. 

With her how I stray 'd amid fountains and bowers 1 
Or loiter'd behind, and collected the flowers! 
Then breathless with ardour my fair one pursued, 
And to think with what kindness my garland she view'd! 
But be still, my fond Heart! this emotion give o'er; 
Fain wouldst thou forjret thou must love her no more. 



SONG XIX. 



1 When bright Ophelia treads the green, 
In all the pride of dress and mien ; 
Averse to freedom, mirth and play, 
The lofty rival of the day; 
Methinks, to my enchanted eye, 

The lilies droop, the roses die. 

2 But when, disdaining art. the fair 
Assumes a soft engaging air; 
Mild as the opening morn of May, 
And as the feather'd warblers gay ; 
The scene improves where'er she goes, 
More sweetly smile the pink and rose. 



184 SONGS AND BALLADS. 

3 lovely maid ! propitious bear, 
Nor tliiiik thy Damon insincere. 
Pity my wild delusive flame ; 
For though the flowers are still the same, 
To me they languisli, or improve, 
And plainly tell me that I love. 



A PARODY. 



1 AVhen first, Philander, first I came 
Where Avon rolls his winding stream. 

The nymphs, how brisk, the swains, how gay, 
To see Asteria, queen of May ! 
The parsons round her praises sung ! 

The steeples with her praises rung ! 

I thought no sight that e'er was seen 
Could match the sight of Barel's Green ! 

2 But now, since old Eugenio died — 
The chief of poets, and the pride — 
Now, meaner bards in vain aspire 

To raise their voice, to tune their lyre ! 
Their lovely season now is o'er ; 
Thy notes, Florelio, please no more ! 
Nor more Asteria's smiles are seen — 
Adieu ! — the sweets of Barel's Green ! 



SONGS AND BALLADS. 185 



THE HALCYON. 



1 Why o'er the verdant banks of Oiise 
Does yonder Halcyon speed so fast ? 
'Tis all because slie would not lose 
Her favourite calm, that will not last. 

2 The sun with azure paints the skies, 
The stream reflects each flowery spray, 
And, frugal of her time, she flies 

To take her fill of love and play ! 

3 See her, when rugged Boreas blows. 
Warm in some rocky cell remain ; 
To seek for pleasure, well she knows, 
Would only then enhance the pain. 

4 " Descend," she cries, " thou hated shower, 
Deform my limpid waves to-day, 

For I have chose a fairer hour 
To take my fill of love and play I" 

5 You, too, my Silvia, sure will own 
Life's azure seasons swiftly roll. 

And when our youth or health is flown, 
To think of love but shocks the soul. 

6 Could Damon but deserve thy charms, 
As thou art Damon's only theme ; 
He 'd fly as quick to Celia's arms 

As yonder Halcyon stems the stream. 



MORAL PIECES. 



THE JUDGMENT OF HERCULES. 

"While blooming Spring descends from genial skies, 

By whose mild influence instant wonders rise ; 

From whose soft breath Eljsian beauties flow ; 

The sweets of Ilaglej, or the pride of Stowe ; 

Will Ljttleton the rural landscape range, 

Leave noisy fame, and not regret the cliange "? 

Pleased will he tread the garden's early scenes. 

And learn a moral from the rising greens '? 

There, warm'd alike by Sol's enlivening power. 

The weed, aspiring, emulates the flower; lo 

The drooping flower, its fairer charms display'd. 

Invites, from grateful hands, their generous aid : 

Soon, if none check'd the invasive foe's designs. 

The lively lustre of these scenes declines ! 

'Tis thus tlic spring of youth, the morn of life. 
Rears in our minds the rival seeds of strife : 
Then passion riots, reason then contends, 
And on the conquest every bliss depends : 
Life from the nice decision takes its hue, 
And blest those judges who decide like you ! 
On worth like theirs shall every bliss attend. 
The world tlieir favourite, and the world their friend. 



MORAL PIECES. 187 

There are, who, blind to Thought's fatiguing ray, 23 
As Fortune gives examples, urge their way ; 
Not Virtue's foes, though they her paths decline, 
And scarce lier friends, though with her friends they join ; 
In hers or Vice's casual road advance, 
Thoughtless, the sinners or the saints of Chance ! 
Yet some more nobly scorn the vulgar voice, 
With judgment fix, with zeal pursue their choice, 30 
When ripen'd thought, when Reason, born to reign. 
Checks the wild tumults of the youthful vein ; 
While passion's lawless tides, at their command. 
Glide through more useful tracks, and bless the land. 

Happiest of these is he whose matchless mind. 
By learning strengthen'd, and by taste refined. 
In Virtue's cause essay'd its earliest powers. 
Chose Virtue's paths, and strew'cl her paths with flowers. 
The first alarm' d, if Freedom waves her wings, 
The fittest to adorn each art she brings ; 40 

Loved by that prince whom every virtue fires. 
Praised by that bard whom every Muse inspires ; 
Blest in the tuneful art, the social flame; 
In all that wins, in all that merits, fame ! 

'Twas youth's perplexing stage his doubts inspired. 
When great Alcides to a grove retired : 
Through the lone windings of a devious glade, 
Resign'd to thought, with lingering steps he stray'd ; 
Blest with a mind to taste sincerer joys, 
Arm'd with a heart each false one to despise. 50 

Dubious he stray'd, with wavering thoughts possest, 
Alternate passions struggling shared his breast ; 
The various arts which human cares divide. 
In deep attention all his mind employ'd ; 
Anxious, if Fame an equal bliss secured ; 
Or silent Ease with softer charms allured. 



188 MORAL PIECES. 

The sjlvan choir, whose numbers sweetly flow'd, 57 

The fount that murmur'd, and the flowers that blow'd ; 
The silver flood that in meanders led 
His glittering streams along the enliven'd mead ; 
The soothing breeze, and all those beauties joiu'd, 
Which, whilst they please, effeminate the mind ; 
In vain ! while distant, on a summit raised, 
The imperial towers of Fame attractive blazed. 

While thus he traced through Fancy's puzzling maze 
The separate sweets of pleasure and of praise, 
Sudden the wind a fragrant gale convey'd, 
And a new lustre gain'd upon the shade : 
At once, before his wondering eyes were seen 
Two female forms, of more than mortal mien : 70 

Various their charms, and in their dress and face, 
Each seem'd to vie with some peculiar grace. 
This, whose attire less clogg'd with art appear'd, 
The simple sweets of innocence endear'd ; 
Her sprightly bloom, her quick sagacious eye, 
Show'd native merit mix'd with modesty : 
Her air diff'used a mild, yet awful ray. 
Severely sweet, and innocently gay ; 
Such the chaste image of the martial maid. 
In artless folds of virgin white array'd; so 

She let no borrow'd rose her cheeks adorn. 
Her blushing cheeks, that shamed the purple morn : 
Her charms nor had nor wanted artful foils. 
Or studied gestures, or well-practised smiles : 
She scorn'd the toys which render beauty less; 
She proved the engaging chastity of dress ; 
And while she chose in native charms to shine. 
Even thus she seem'd, nay, more than seem'd divine. 
One modest emerald clasp'd the robe she wore, 
And in her hand the imperial sword she bore. 90 



MORAL PIECES. 189 

Sublime her height, majestic was her pace, 9i 

And match'd the awful honours of her face. 

The shrubs, the flowers, that deck'd the verdant ground, 

Seem'd, where she trod, with rising lustre crown'd. 

Still her approach with stronger influence warm'd ; 

She pleased while distant, but when near she charm'd. 

So strikes the gazer's eje the silver gleam 

That, glittering, quivers o'er a distant stream; 

But from its banks we see new beauties rise. 

And, in its crystal bosom, trace the skies. loo 

With other charms the rival vision glow'd, 
x\nd from her dress her tinsel beauties flow'd. 
A fluttering robe her pamper'd shape conceal'd, 
And seem'd to shade the charms it best reveal'd : 
Its form contrived her faulty size to grace. 
Its hue, to give fresh lustre to her face. 
Her plaited hair, disguised, with brilliants glared ; 
. Her cheeks the ruby's neighbouring lustre shared ; 
The gaudy topaz lent its gay supplies. 
And every gem that strikes less curious eyes ; no 

Exposed her breast, with foreign sweets perfumed. 
And round her brow a roseate garland bloom'd. 
Soft smiling, blushing lips conceal'd her wiles ; 
Yet, ah ! the blushes artful as the smiles. 
Oft, gazing on her shade, the enraptured fair 
Decreed the substance well deserved her care; 
Her thoughts, to others' charms malignly blind, 
Center'd in that, and were to that confined ; 
And if on others' eyes a glance were thrown, 
'Twas but to watch the influence of her own : 120 

Much like her guardian, fair Cythera's queen, 
When for her warrior she refines her mien ; 
Or when, to bless her Delian favourite's arms. 
The radiant fair invigorates her charms: 



190 MOEAL PIECES. 

Much like licr pupil, Egypt's sportive dame, 125 

Her dress expressive, and her air the same, 

When her gay bark o'er silver Cydiius roU'd, 

And all the emblazon'd streamers waved in gold. 

Such shone the vision, nor forbore to move 

The fond contagious airs of lawless love ; 130 

Each wanton eye deluding glances fired, 

And amorous dimples on each check conspired. 

Lifeless her gait, and slow ; with seeming pain 

She dragg'd her loitering limbs along the plain, 

Yet made some faint efforts, and first approach'd the swain. 

So glaring draughts, with taw^dry lustre bright, 

Spring to the view, and rush upon the sight; 

More slowly charms a Raphael's chaster air, 

Waits the calm search, and pays the searcher's care. 

Wrapp'd in a pleased suspense, the youth survey'd ho 
The various charms of each attractive maid : 
Alternate each he view'd, and each admired, 
And found, alternate, varying flames inspired: 
Quick o'er their forms his eyes with pleasure ran, 
When she, who first approach'd him, first began : — 

" Hither, dear boy, direct thy wandering eyes; 
'Tis here the lovely Vale of Pleasure lies : 
Debate no more, to me thy life resign; 
Each sweet which Nature can difiuse is mine : 
For me the nymph diversifies her power, 160 

Springs in a tree, or blossoms in a flower ; 
To please my ear, she tunes the linnet's strains; 
To please my eye, with lilies paints the plains ; 
To form my couch, in mossy beds she grows; 
To gratify my smell, perfumes the rose; 
Reveals the fair, the fertile scene you see, 
And swells the vegetable world for me. 



MORAL PIECES. 191 

" Let the gull'd fool the toils of war pursue, iss 

Where bleed the many to enrich the few : 
Where Chance from Courage claims the boasted prize ; 
Where, though she give, jour country oft denies. 
Industrious thou shalt Cupid's wars maintain, 
And ever gentlj fight his soft campaign ; 
His darts alone shalt wield, his wounds endure. 
Yet only suffer, to enjoy the cure. 
Yield but to me — a choir of nymphs shall rise. 
And fire thy breast, and bless thy ravish'd eyes : 
Their beauteous cheeks a fairer rose shall wear, 
A brighter lily on their necks appear ; 
Where fondly thou thy favour'd head shalt rest, i70 

Soft as the down that swells the cygnet's nest; 
While Philomel in each soft voice complains, 
And gently lulls thee with mellifluous strains ; 
Whilst with each accent sweetest odours flow, 
And spicy gums round every bosom glow. 
Not the famed bird Arabian climes admire 
Shall in such luxury of sweets expire. 
At Sloth let War's victorious sons exclaim, 
In vain ! for Pleasure is my real name : 
Nor envy thou the heads with bays overgrown ; i80 

No, seek thou roses to adorn thy own ; 
For well each opening scene that claims my care 
Suits and deserves the beauteous crown I wear. 

" Let others prune the vine; the genial bowl 
Shall crown thy table, and enlarge thy soul. 
Let vulgar hands explore the brilliant mine. 
So the gay produce glitter still on thine. 
Indulgent Bacchus loads his labouring tree. 
And, guarding, gives its clustering sweets to me. 
For my loved train, Apollo's piercing beam i90 

Darts through the passive globe, and frames the gem. 



192 MORAL PIECES. 

See iu my cause consenting gods employ 'd, 102 

Nor slight these gods, their blessings uneujoj'd. 

For thee the poplar shall its amber drain ; 

For thee, in clouded beauty, spring the cane ; 

Some costly tribute every clime shall pay, 

Some charming treasure every wind convey ; 

Bach object round some pleasing scene shall yield. 

Art built thy dome, while Nature decks thy field : 

Of Corinth's Order shall the structure rise, 200 

The spiring turrets glitter through the skies ; 

Thy costl}"^ robe shall glow with Tyrian rays, 

Thy vase shall sparkle, and thy car shall blaze ; 

Yet thou, whatever pomp the sun display, 

Shalt own the amorous night exceeds the day. 

" When melting flutes and sweetly sounding lyres 
Wake the gay Loves, and cite the young Desires; 
Or in the Ionian dance some favourite maid 
Improves the flame her sparkling eyes couvey'd ; 
Think, canst thou quit a glowing Delia's arms 210 

To feed on Virtue's visionary charms ? 
Or slight the joys which wit and youth engage 
For the faint honour of a frozen sage 1 
To find dull envy even that hope deface. 
And, where you toiled for glory, reap disgrace 1 

" Oh ! think that beauty waits on thy decree, 
And thy loved loveliest charmer pleads with mo ; 
She whose soft smile, or gentler glance, to move, 
You vow'd the wild extremities of love ; 
In whose endearments years, like moments, flew ; 220 
For whose endearments millions seem'd too few ; 
She, she implores; she bids thee seize the prime. 
And tread with her the flowery tracts of time. 
Nor thus her lovely bloom of life bestow 
On some cold lover, or insulting foe. 



MORAL PIECES. 193 

Think, if against that tongue thou canst rebel, 226 

Where Love jet dwelt, and Reason seem'd to dwell, 
What strong persuasion arms her softer sighs ! 
What full conviction sparkles in her eyes! 

" See, Nature smiles, and birds salute the shade, 230 
Where breathing jasmine screens the sleeping maid ; 
And such her charms, as to the vain may prove 
Ambition seeks more humble joys than Love ! 
There busy toil shall ne'er invade thy reign, 
Nor sciences perplex thy labouring brain ; 
Or none, but what with equal sweets invite, 
Nor other arts, but to prolong delight. 
Sometimes thy fancy prune her tender wing, 
To praise a pendant, or to grace a ring ; 
To fix the dress that suits each varying mien; 240 

To show where best the clustering gems are seen ; 
To sigh soft strains along the vocal grove, 
And tell the charms, the sweet effects, of love! 
Nor fear to find a coy disdainful Muse, 
Nor think the Sisters will their aid refuse : 
Cool grots, and tinkling rills, or silent shades, 
Soft scenes of leisure, suit the harmonious maids; 
And all the wise, and all the grave decree 
Some of that sacred train allied to me. 

" But if more specious ease thy wishes claim, 250 

And thy breast glow with faint desire of fame, 
Some softer science shall thy thoughts amuse, 
And learning's name a solemn sound diffuse. 
To thee all Nature's curious stores I '11 bring, 
Explain the beauties of an insect's wing; 
The plant which Nature, less diffusely kind. 
Has to few climes with partial care confined; 
The shell she scatters with more careless air, 
And in her frolics seems supremely fair; 

N 



194 MORAL PIECES. 

The worth that dazzles in the tuHp's stains, 260 

Or hirks beneath a pebble's various veins. 

" Sleep's downy god, averse to war's alarms. 
Shall o'er thj head diffuse his softest charms, 
Ere anxious thought thy dear repose assail. 
Or care, my most destructive foe, prevail. 
The watery nymphs shall tune the vocal vales, 
And gentle zephyrs harmonize their gales ; 
For thy repose, inform, with rival joy. 
Their streams to murmur, and their winds to sigh. 
Thus shalt thou spend the sweetly-flowing day, 270 

Till, lost in bliss, thou breathe thy soul away; 
Till she the Elysian bowers of joy repair, 
Nor find my charming scenes exceeded there." 

She ceased ; and on a lilied bank reclined. 
Her flowing robe waved wanton with the wind; 
One tender hand her drooping head sustains. 
One points, expressive, to the flowery plains. 
Soon the fond youth perceived her influence roll 
Deep in his breast, to melt his manly soul ; 
As when Favonius joins the solar blaze, 280 

And each fair fabric of the frost decays, 
Soon, to his breast, the soft harangue convey'd 
Resolves too partial to the specious maid. 
He sigh'd, he gazed, so sweetly smiled the dame. 
Yet sighing, gazing, seem'd to scorn his flame ; 
And oft as Virtue caught his wandering eye, 
A crimson blush condemn'd the rising sigh. 
'Twas such the lingering Trojan's shame betray 'd 
When Maia's son the frown of Jove display 'd ; 
When wealth, fame, empire, could no balance prove 290 
For the soft reign of Dido, and of love. 
Thus ill with arduous glory love conspires, 
Soft tender flames with bold impetuous fires! 



MOEAL PIECES. 195 

Some hovering doubts bis anxious bosom moved, 294 
And Virtue, zealous fair! those doubts improved. — 

" Flj, fly, fond youth ! the too indulgent maid. 
Nor err, by such fantastic scenes betray 'd. 
Though in my path the rugged thorn be seen, 
And the dry turf disclose a fainter green ; 
Though no gay rose or flovs'ery product shine, 300 

The barren surface still conceals the mine. 
Each thorn that threatens, even the weed that grows 
In Virtue's path, superior sweets bestows — 
Yet should those boasted specious toys allure. 
Whence could fond Sloth the flattering gifts procure'? 
The various wealth that tempts thy fond desire, 
'Tis I alone, her greatest foe, acquire. 
I from old Ocean rob the treasured store; 
I through each region latent gems explore : 
'Twas I the rugged brilliant first reveal'd, 310 

iiy numerous strata deep in earth conceal'd; 
'Tis I the surface yet refine, and show 
The modest gem's intrinsic charms to glow ; 
Nor swells the grape, nor spires its feeble tree. 
Without the firm supports of industry. 

" But grant we Sloth the scene herself has drawn, 
The mossy grotto, and the flowery lawn ; 
Let Philomela tune the harmonious gale, 
And with each breeze eternal sweets exhale ; 
Let gay Pomona slight the plains around, 320 

And choose, for fairest fruits, the favour'd ground ; 
To bless the fertile vale should Virtue cease, 
Nor mossy grots, nor flowery lawns could please ; 
Nor gay Pomona's luscious gifts avail, 
The sound harmonious, or the spicy gale. 

" Seest thou yon rocks in dreadful pomp arise. 
Whose rugged cHffs deform the encircling skies 1 



196 MORAL PIECES. 

Those fields, whence Phoebus all the moisture drains, 
And, too profusely fond, disrobes the plains 1 329 

When I vouchsafe to tread the barren soil, 
Those rocks seem lovely, and those deserts smile : 
The form thou view'st to every scene with ease 
Transfers its charms, and every scene can please. 
When I have on those pathless wilds appear'd. 
And the lone wanderer with my presence cheer'd, 
Those cliffs the exile has with pleasure view'd. 
And call'd that desert, blissful solitude ! 

" Nor I alone to such extend ray care, 
Fair blooming Health surveys her altars there : 
Brown Exercise will lead thee where she reigns, 840 
And with reflected lustre gild the plains : 
With her in flower of youth and beauty's pride, 
Her ofi'spring, calm Content and Peace, reside ; 
One ready oflbring suits each neighbouring shrine, 
And all obey their laws, who practise mine. 

" But Health averse, from Sloth's smooth region flies, 
And, in her absence. Pleasure droops and dies ; 
Her bright companions, Mirth, Delight, Repose, 
Smile where she smiles, and sicken when she goes : 
A galaxy of powers ! whose forms appear 350 

For ever beauteous, and for ever near, 

" Nor will soft Sleep to Sloth's request incline, 
He from her couches flies unbid to mine. 

" Vain is the sparkling bowl, the warbling strain. 
The incentive song, the labour'd viand vain ! 
Where she, relentless, reigns without control. 
And checks each gay excursion of the soul ; 
Uumoved though Beauty, deck'd in all its charms, 
Grace the ricli couch, and spread the softest arms ; 
Till joyle&s Indolence suggests desires, 86O 

Or drugs are sought to furnish languid fires ; 



MORAL PIECES. 197 

Such languid fires as on the vitals prey, 362 

Barren of bliss, but fertile of decay : 
As artful heats, applied to thirsty lands, 
Produce no flowers, and but debase the sands. 

" But let fair Health her cheering smiles impart I 
How sweet is Nature, how superfluous Art ! 
'Tis she the fountain's ready draught commends, 
And smooths the flinty couch which Fortune lends ; 
And when my hero from his toils retires, 370 

Fills his gay bosom with unusual fires ; 
And while no checks the unbounded joy reprove. 
Aids and refines the genuine sweets of love. 
His fairest prospect rising trophies frame ; 
His sweetest music is the voice of Fame : 
Pleasures to Sloth unknown ! she never found 
How fair the prospect, or how sweet the sound. 

" See Fame's gay structure from yon summit charms, 
And fires the manly breast to arts or arms ; 
Nor dread the steep ascent, by which you rise 38 

From grovelling vales to tov/ers which reach the skies. 

" Love, fame, esteem, 'tis labour must acquire, 
The smiling ofi*spring of a rigid fire ! 
To fix the friend, your service must be shown ; 
All, ere they loved your merit, loved their own; 
That wondering Greece your portrait may admire, 
That tuneful bards may string for you their lyre, 
That books may praise, or coins record your name, — 
Such, such rewards 'tis toil alone can claim ! 
And the same column which displays to view 390 

The conqueror's name, displays the conquest too. 

" 'Twas slow Experience, tedious mistress ! taught 
All that e'er nobly spoke or bravely fought : 
'Twas she the patriot, she the bard, refined 
In arts that serve, protect, or please mankind. 



198 MORAL PIECES. 

Not the vain visions of inactive schools, 396 

Not Fancy's maxims, nor Opinion's rules, 

E'er form'd the man whose generous warmth extends 

To enrich his country, or to serve his friends. 

On active worth the laurel War bestows ; 400 

Peace rears her olive for industrious brows ; 

Nor earth, uncultured, yields its kind supplies ; 

Nor heaven its showers, without a sacrifice. 

" See, far below such grovelling scenes of shame. 
As lull to rest Ignavia's ^ slumbering dame ; 
Pier friends, from all the toils of Fame secure, 
Alas ! inglorious, greater toils endure ; 
Doom'd all to mourn who in her cause engage ; 
A youth enervate, and a painful age ; 
A sickly sapless mass, if Reason flies, 4io 

And, if she linger, impotently wise ! 
A thoughtless train, who, pamper'd, sleek, and gay, 
Invite old age, and revel youth away ; 
From life's fresh vigour move the load of care, 
And idly place it where tliey least can bear ; 
When to the mind, diseased, for aid they fly. 
What kind reflection shall the mind supply 1 
When with lost health, what should the loss allay? 
Peace, peace is lost ; a comfortless decay ! 
But to ray friends, when youth, when pleasure, flies, 420 
And earth's dim beauties fade before their eyes, 
Through death's dark vista flowery tracts are seen, 
Elysian plains, and groves for ever green. 
If o'er their lives a refluent glance they cast, 
Theirs is the present who can praise the past ; 
Life has its bliss for these, when past its bloom, 
As withered roses yield a late perfume. 

• ' Isnavia:' Sloth. 



MOEAL PIECES. 199 

" Serene, and safe from passion's stormy rage, 428 
How calm tliej glide into the port of Age ! 
Of the rude voyage less deprived than eased ; 
More tired than pain'd, and weaken'd than diseased ; 
For health on age 'tis temperance must bestow. 
And peace from piety alone can flow ; 
And all the incense bounteous Jove requires. 
Has sweets for him who feeds the sacred fires. 

" Sloth views the towers of Fame with envious eyes, 
Desirous still, still impotent to rise. 
Oft, when resolved to gain those blissful towers, 
The pensive queen the dire ascent explores, 
Comes onward, wafted by the balmy trees, 440 

Some sylvan music, or some scented breeze ; 
She turns her head, her own gay realm she spies. 
And all the short-lived resolution dies. 
Thus some fond insect's faltering pinions wave, 
Clasp'd in its favourite sweets, a lasting slave ; 
And thus in vain these charming visions please 
The wretch of glory, and the slave of ease, 
Doom'd ever in ignoble state to pine. 
Boast her own scenes, and languish after mine. 
But shun her snares ; nor let the world exclaim, 450 
Thy birth, which was thy glory, proved thy shame. 
With early hope thine infant actions fired. 
Let manhood crown what infancy inspired ; 
Let generous toils with health reward thy days, 
Prolong thy prime, and eternize thy praise. 
The bold exploit that charms the attesting age. 
To latest times shall generous hearts engage ; 
And with that myrtle shall thy shrine be crown'd. 
With which, alive, thy graceful brows were bound, 
Till Time shall bid thy virtues freely bloom, 46 

And raise a temple where it found a tomb. 



200 MORAL PIECES. 

" Then in their feasts thy name shall Grecians join, 
Shall pour the sparkling juice to Jove's and thine : 463 
Thine, used in war, shall raise their native fire ; 
Thine, used in peace, their mutual faith inspire. 
Dulness, perhaps, through want of sight, may blame, 
And Spleen, with odious industry, defame ; 
And that, the honours given, with wonder view, 
And this, in secret sadness, own them due. 
Contempt and Envy were by fate design'd 47o 

The rival tyrants which divide mankind ; 
Contempt, which none but who deserve can bear. 
While Envy's wounds the smiles of Fame repair : 
For know, the generous thine exploits shall fire, 
Thine every friend it suits thee to require ; 
Loved by the gods, and, till their seats I show, 
Loved by the good, their images below." 

" Cease, lovely maid ! fair daughter of the Skies ; 
My guide! my queen !" the ecstatic youth repHes: 
" In thee I trace a form design'd for sway, 48o 

Which chiefs may court, and kings with pride obey ; 
And by thy bright immortal friends I swear. 
Thy fair idea shall no toils impair. 
Lead me, lead me ! where whole liosts of foes 
Thy form depreciate, and thy friends oppose. 
Welcome all toils the unequal Fates decree. 
While toils endear thy faithful charge to thee. 
Such be my cares to bind the oppressive hand. 
And crush the fetters of an injured land; 
To see the monster's noxious life resign'd, 490 

And tyrants quell'd, the monsters of mankind ! 
Nature shall smile to view the vanquish'd brood, 
And none, but Envy, riot unsubdued. 
In cloister'd state let selfish sages dwell. 
Proud that their heart is narrow as their cell! 



MORAL PIECES. 201 

And boast their mazy labyrinth of rules, 496 

Far less the friends of Virtue, than the fools ; 

Yet such in vain thy favouring smiles pretend. 

For he is thine, who proves his country's friend. 

Thus when my life, well spent, the good enjoy, soo 

And the mean envious labour to destroy ; 

When strongly lured by Fame's contiguous shrine, 

I yet devote my choicer vows to thine ; 

If all my toils thy promised favour claim, 

lead thy favourite through the gates of Fame ! " 

He ceased his vows, and, with disdainful air. 
He turn'd to blast the late exulting fair : 
But vanish' d, fled to some more friendly shore. 
The conscious phantom's beauty pleased no more ; 
Convinced her spurious charms of dress and face, 5io 
Claim'd a quick conquest, or a sure disgrace. 
Fantastic power ! whose transient charms allured, 
While Error's mist the reasoning mind obscured ; 
Not such the victress. Virtue's constant queen. 
Endured the test of truth, and dared be seen ; 
Her brightening form and features seem'd to own, 
'Twas all her wish, her interest to be known ; 
And when his longing view the fair declined. 
Left a full image of her charms behind. 

Thus reigns the moon, with furtive splendour crown'd, 
While glooms oppress us, and thick shades surround ; 521 
But let the source of light its beams display, 
Languid and faint the mimic flames decay, 
And all the sickening splendour fades away. 



202 MORAL PIECES. 

THE PROGRESS OF TASTE; 

OR, THE FATE OF DELICACY. 

A POEM ON THE TEMPER AND STUDIES OF THE AUTHOR; 
AND HOW GREAT A MISFORTUNE IT IS FOR A MAN OF 
SMALL ESTATE TO HAVE MUCH TASTE. 

PART FIRST. 

Perhaps some cloud eclipsed the day, 

When thus I tuned ray pensive lay : 

" The ship is launch'd — we catch the gale — 

On life's extended ocean sail : 

For happiness our course we bend, 

Our ardent cry, our general end ! 

Yet, ah ! the scenes which tempt our care 

Are, like the forms dispersed in air, 

Still dancing near disorder'd eyes, 

And weakest his who best descries ! " lo 

Yet let me not my birthright barter, 
(For wishing is the poet's charter; 
All bards have leave to wish what 's wanted. 
Though few e'er found their wishes granted ; 
Extensive field ! where poets pride them 
In ringing all that is denied them). 

For humble ease, ye Powers ! I pray ; 
That plain warm suit for every day. 
And pleasure and brocade, bestow, 
To flaunt it — once a month, or so. 20 

The first for constant wear we want ; 
The first, ye Powers ! for ever grant ; 
But constant wear the last bespatters, 
And turns the tissue into tatters. 



MORAL PIECES. 203 

Where'er my vagrant course I bend, 25 

Let me secure one faithful friend. 
Let me, in public scenes, request 
A friend of wit and taste, well drest ; 
And, if I must not hope such favour, 
A friend of wit and taste, however. 30 

Alas ! that Wisdom ever shuns 
To congregate her scatter'd sons, 
Whose nervous forces, well combined, 
Would win the field, and sway mankind. 
The fool will squeeze, from morn to night, 
To fix his follies full in sight ; 
The note he strikes, the plume he shows. 
Attract whole flights of fops and beaus. 
And kindred fools, who ne'er had known him, 
Flock at the sight, caress and own him; 40 

But ill-starr'd Sense, not gay nor loud, 
Steals soft on tiptoe through the crowd; 
Conveys his meagre form between, 
And slides, like pervious air, unseen; 
Contracts his known tenuity, 
As though 'twere even a crime to be ; ^ 
Nor even permits his eyes to stray, 
And win acquaintance in their way. 

In company, so mean his air, 
You scarce are conscious he is there; 50 

Till from some nook, like sharpen'd steel, 
Occurs his face's thin profile, 
Still seeming, from the gazer's eye, 
Like Venus newly bathed, to fly : 
Yet while reluctant he displays 
His real gems before the blaze, 

• ' Even a crime to be : ' In like manner Hall said of some bashful man, 
that he seemed always going about apologizing for the unpardonable liberty 
of being in the world. 



204 MORAL PIECES. 

The fool hath, in its centre, placed 57 

His tawdry stock of painted paste. 

Disused to speak, he tries his skill, 

Speaks coldly, and succeeds but ill; 

His pensive manner dulness deem'd, 

His modesty reserve esteem'd; 

His wit unknown, his learning vain. 

He wins not one of all the train : 

And those who, mutually known. 

In friendship's fairest list had shone. 

Less prone than pebbles to unite. 

Retire to shades from public sight, 

Grow savage, quit their social nature, 

And starve, to study mutual satire. To 

But friends and favourites, to chagrin theuij 
Find counties, countries, seas, between them ; 
Meet once a year, then part, and then 
Retiring, wish to meet again. 

Sick of the thought, let me provide 
Some human form to grace my side : 
At hand, where'er I shape my course, 
An useful, pliant, stalking-horse ! 

No gesture free from some grimace, 
No seam, without its share of lace, so 

But, mark'd with gold or silver either, 
Hint where his coat was pieced together. 
His legs be leugthen'd, I advise, 
And stockings roll'd abridge his thighs. 
What though Vandyke had other rules '? 
What had Vandyke to do with fools ? 
Be nothing wanting, but his mhid ; 
Before a solitaire, behind 
A twisted ribband, like the track 
Which Nature gives an ass's back. 9o 



MORAL PIECES. 205 

Silent as midnight ! pity 'twere, 9i 

His wisdom's slender wealth to share ! 
And, whilst in flocks our fancies stray, 
To wish the poor man's lamb away. 

This form attracting every eye, 
I stroll all unregarded by : 
This wards the jokes of every kind. 
As an umbrella sun or wind ; 
Or, like a sponge, absorbs the sallies 
And pestilential fumes of malice; loo 

Or, like a splendid shield, is fit 
To screen the Templar's random wit ; 
Or, what some gentler cit lets fall, 
As woolpacks quash the leaden ball. 

Allusions these of weaker force, 
And apter still the stalking-horse ! 

let me wander all unseen 
Beneath the sanction of his mien ! 
As lilies soft, as roses fair ! 

Empty as airpumps drain'd of air ! no 

With steady eye and pace remark 
The speckled flock that haunts the Park ; ^ 
Level my pen with wondrous heed 
At follies, flocking there to feed ; 
And as my satire burns amain, 
See feather'd foppery strew the plain. 

But when I seek my rural grove. 
And share the peaceful haunts I love. 
Let none of this unhallow'd train 
My sweet sequester'd paths profane. 120 

Oft may some polish'd virtuous friend 
To these soft-winding vales descend, 

' ' The Park : ' St James's. 



206 MORAL PIECES. 

And love with me inglorious things, 123 

And scorn with me the pomp of kings ; 

And check me when mj bosom burns 

For statues, paintings, coins, and urns; 

For I in Damon's prayer could join. 

And Damon's wish might now be mine — 

But all dispersed! the wish, the prayer. 

Are driven to mix with common air. 130 

PART SECOND. 

How happy once was Damon's lot, 
While yet romantic schemes were not, 
Ere yet he sent his weakly eyes, 
To plan frail castles in the skies ! 
Forsaking pleasures cheap and common. 
To court a blaze, still flitting from one. 

Ah ! happy Damon ! thrice and more, 
Had Taste ne'er touch'd thy tranquil shore. 

Oh days ! when to a girdle tied 
The couples jiugled at his side, 10 

And Damon swore he would not barter 
The sportsman's girdle for a garter. 

Whoever came to kill an hour, 
Found easy Damon in their power, 
Pure social Nature all his guide ; 
" Damon had not a grain of pride." 

He wish'd not to elude the snares 
Which Knavery plans, and Craft prepares, 
But rather wealth to crown their wiles. 
And win then- universal smiles : 20 

For who are cheerful, who at ease. 
But they who cheat us as they please ? 

He wink'd at many a gross design 
The new-fallen calf might countermine : 



MORAL PIECES. 207 

Thus every fool allow'd his merit ; 25 

" Yes ; Damon had a generous spirit." 

A coxcomb's jest, however vile. 
Was sure, at least, of Damon's smile ; 
That coxcomb ne'er denied him sense ; 
For why 1 it proved his own pretence. 30 

All own'd, were modesty away, 
Damon could shine as much as they. 

When wine and folly came in season, 
Damon ne'er strove to save his reason ; 
Obnoxious to the mad uproar, 
A spy upon a hostile shore ! 
'Twas this his company endear'd ; 
Mirth never came till he appear'd. 
His lodgings — every drawer could show them ; 
The slave was kick'd who did not know them. 40 

Thus Damon, studious of his ease. 
And pleasing all whom mirth could please. 
Defied the world, like idle CoUey, 
To show a softer word than folly. 
Since Wisdom's gorgon-shield was known 

To stare the gazer into stone, 

He chose to trust in Folly's charm, 

To keep his breast alive and warm. 
At length grave Learning's sober train 

Remark'd the trifler with disdain ; 50 

The sons of Taste contemn' d his ways, 

And rank'd him with the brutes that graze ; 

While they to nobler heights aspired. 

And grew beloved, esteem'd, admired. 
Hence with our youth, not void of spirit. 

His old companions lost their merit. 

And every kind w^U-natured sot 

Seem'd a dull play, without a plot, 



208 MORAL PIECES. 

Wlicre every yawning guest agrees, 69 

The willing creature strives to please : 

But temper never could amuse ; 

It barely led us to excuse ; 

'Twas true, conversing tbey averr'd 

All they had seen, or felt, or heard ; 

Talents of weinjht! for wig-hts like these 

Tlic law might choose for witnesses ; 

But sure th' attesting dry narration 

111 suits a judge of conversation. 

What were their freedoms 1^ mere excuses 
To vent ill-manners, blows, and bruises. 70 

Yet freedom, gallant freedom ! hailing. 
At form, at form, incessant railing, 
Would they examine each offence. 
Its latent cause, its known pretence. 
Punctilio ne'er was known to breed them, 
So sure as fond prolific freedom. 
Tlieir courage! but a loaded gun, 
Machine the wise would wish to shun ; 
Its guard unsafe, its lock an ill one, 
Where accident might fire and kill one. so 

In short, disgusted out of measure. 
Through much contempt, and slender pleasure, 
ITis sense of dignity returns ; 
With native pride his bosom burns; 
He seeks respect — but how to gain it*? 
Wit, social mirth, could ne'er obtain it; 
And laughter, where it reigns uncheck'd, 
Discards and dissipates respect : 
The man who gravely bows, enjoys it, 
But shaking hands, at once destroys it; 90 

• ' Freedoms : ' boisterous mirth. 



MORAL PIECES. 209 

Precarious plant ! which, fresh and gay, 9i 

Shrinks at the touch, and fades away ! 

Come then, Reserve ! yet from thy train 
Banish Contempt and cursed Disdain. 
Teach me, he cried, thy magic art, 
To act the decent distant part ; 
To husband well my complaisance ; 
Nor let even Wit too far advance ; 
But choose calm Reason for my theme, 
In these her royal realms supreme, loo 

And o'er her charms, with caution shown, 
Be still a graceful umbrage thrown. 
And each abrupter period crown'd 
With nods, and winks, and smiles profound ; 
Till, rescued from the crowd beneath, 
No more with pain to move or breathe, 
I rise with head elate, to share 
Salubrious draughts of purer air. 
Respect is won by grave pretence, 
And silence, surer even than sense. no 

'Tis hence the sacred grandeur springs 
Of Eastern, and of other kings ; 
Or whence this awe to Virtue due. 
While Virtue 's distant as Peru "? 
The sheathless sword the guard displays, 
Which round emits its dazzling rays ; 
The stately fort, the turrets tall, 
PortcuUiss'd gate, and battled wall. 
Less screens the body than controls. 
And wards contempt from royal souls. 120 

The crowns they wear but check the eye 
Before it fondly pierce too nigh ; ' 
That dazzled crowds may be eraploy'd 
Around the surface of — tlie void. 



210 MORAL PIECES. 

Oh, 'tis the stateman's craft profound 125 

To scatter his amusements round, 

To tempt us from their conscious breast, 

Where full-fledged crimes enjoy their nest; 

Nor awes us every worth reveal'd. 

So deeply as each vice conceal'd. 130 

The lordly log, despatch'd of yore. 
That the frog people might adore, 
With guards to keep them at a distance. 
Had reigu'd, nor wanted Wit's assistance ; 
Nay — had addresses from his nation. 
In praise of log-administration. 

PART THIRD. 

The buoyant fires of youth were o'er, 
And fame and finery pleased no more. 
Productive of that general stare. 
Which cool reflection ill can bear ! 
And, crowds commencing mere vexation. 
Retirement sent its invitation. 

Romantic scenes of pendent hills, 
And verdant vales, and falling rills, 
And mossy banks the fields adorn, 
Where Damon, simple swain ! was born. 10 

The Dryads rear'd a shad}^ grove. 
Where such as think, and such as love, 
May safely sigh their summer's day. 
Or muse their silent hours away. 

The Oreads liked the climate well, 
And taught the level plain to swell 
In verdant mounds, from whence the eye 
Might all their larger works descry. 

The Naiads pour'd their urns around, 
From nodding rocks o'er vales profound ; 20 



MORAL PIECES. 211 

They form'd their streams to please the view, 21 
And bade them wind, as serpents do. 
And having shown them where to stray, 
Threw little pebbles in their way. 

These Fancy, all-sagacious maid ! 
Had at their several tasks survey'd : 
She saw and smiled ; and oft would lead 
Our Damon's foot o'er hill and mead ; 
There, with descriptive finger, trace 
The genuine beauties of the place ; 30 

And when she all its charms had shown, 
Prescribe improvements of her own. — 
" See yonder hill, so green, so round, 
Its brow with ambient beeches crown'd ! 
'Twould well become thy gentle care 
To raise a dome to Venus there ; 
Pleased would the nymphs thy zeal survey, 
And Venus, in their arms, repay. 

'Twas such a shade, and such a nook, 

In such a vale, near such a brook ; 40 

From such a rocky fragment springing. 

That famed Apollo chose to sing in ; 

There let an altar wrought with art 

Engage the tuneful patron's heart : 

How charming there to muse and warble 

Beneath his bust of breathing marble ! 

With laurel wreath and mimic lyre, 

That crown a poet's vast desire : 

Then, near it, scoop the vaulted cell 

Where Music's charming maids ^ may dwell ; 50 

Prone to indulge thy tender passion, 

And make thee many an assignation. 

' ' Music's charming maids : ' the muses. 



212 



MORAL PIECES. 

Deep in the grove's obscure retreat 68 

Be placed Minerva's sacred seat ; 

There let her awful turrets rise, 

(For wisdom flies from vulgar eyes) ; 

There her calm dictates shalt thou hear 

Distinctly strike thy listening ear ; 

And who would shun the pleasing labour, 

To have Minerva for his neighbour V eo 

In short, so charm'd each wild suggestion, 
Its truth was little call'd in question : 
And Damon dreamt he saw the Fawns 
And nymphs distinctly skim the lawns ; 
Now traced amid the trees, and then 
Lost in the circling shades again, 
With leer oblique their lover viewing — 
And Cupid — panting — and pursuing — 
"Fancy, enchanting Fair!" he cried, 
" Be thou my goddess, thou my guide ; 7o 

For thy bright visions I despise 
What foes may think, or friends advise. 
The feign'd concern when folks survey 
Expense, time, study, cast away ; 
The real spleen with which they see ; 
I please myself and follow thee." 

Thus glow'd his breast, by Fancy warm'd. 
And thus the fairy landscape charm'd ; 
But most he hoped his constant care, 
Might win the favour of the fair ; so 

And, wandering late through yonder glade. 
He thus the soft design betray'd : — 

" Ye Doves ! for whom I rear'd the grove. 
With melting lays salute my love ! 
My Delia with your notes detain, 
Or I have rear'd the grove in vain. 



MORAL PIECES. 213 

Ye flowers whicli early spring supplies, 87 

Display at once your brightest dyes, 

That she your opening charms may see, 

Or what were else your charms to me 1 

Kind Zephyr 1 brush each fragrant flower, 

And shed its odours round my bower. 

Or ne'er again, gentle wind, 

Shall I in thee refreshment find. 

Ye Streams ! if e'er your banks I loved. 

If e'er your native sounds improved. 

May each soft murmur soothe my fair, 

Or, oh ! 'twill deepen my despair. 

Be sure, ye Willows, you be seen, 

Array'd in liveliest robes of green, loo 

Or I will tear your slighted boughs. 

And let them fade around my brows ; 

And thou, my Grot ! whose lonely bounds 

The melancholy pine surrounds, 

May she admire thy peaceful gloom, 

Or thou shalt prove her lover's tomb." 

And now the lofty domes were rear'd, 
Loud laugh'd the squires, the rabble stared. 
" See, Neighbours ! what our Damon's doing ; 
I think some folks are fond of ruin ! no 

I saw his sheep at random stray — 
But he has thrown his crook away — 
And builds such huts as, in foul weather, 
Are fit for sheep nor shepherd neither."' 

Whence came the sober swain misled ? 
Why, Phoebus put it in his head : 
Phoebus befriends him we are told ; 
And Phoebus coins bright tuns of gold. 
'Twere prudent not to be so vain on 't, 
I think he '11 never touch a grain on't. 120 



214 MORAL PIECES. 

And if from Phoebus and his muse, 121 

Mere earthly laziness ensues ; 

'Tis plain, for aught that I can say, 

The devil inspires as well as they. 

So they — while fools of gi'osser kind, 

Less weeting what our bard design'd. 

Impute his schemes to real evil; 

That in these haunts he met the devil. 

He own'd, though their advice was vain. 
It suited wights who trod the plain; 130 

For dulness — though he might abhor it, 
In them he made allowance for it; 
Nor wonder'd, if, beholding mottos. 
And urns, and domes, and cells, and grottos, 
Folks, little dreaming of the Muses, 
Were plagued to guess their proper uses. 

But did the Muses haunt his cell 1 
Or in his dome did Venus dwell ? 
Did Pallas in his counsels share ? 
The Delian god reward his prayer 1 i4o 

Or did his zeal engage the fair "? 
When all the structure shone complete, 
Not much convenient, wondrous neat; 
Adorn'd with gilding, painting, planting, 
And the fair guests alone were wanting ; 
Ah, me ! ('twas Damon's own confession) 
Came Poverty and took possession. 

PART FOURTH. 

Why droops my Damon, whilst he roves 
Through ornamented meads and groves, 
Near columns, obelisks, and spires. 
Which every critic eye admires 1 



MORAL PIECES. 215 

'Tis Poverty, detested maid ! 5 

Sole tenant of their ample shade ; 
'Tis she that robs him of his ease, 
And bids their very charms displease. 

But now, by Fancy long controU'd, 
And with the sons of Taste enroU'd, lo 

He deem'd it shameful to commence 
First minister to Common-sense ; 
Far more elated, to pursue 
The lowest talk of dear virtii. 

And now, behold his lofty soul, 
That whilom flew from pole to pole. 
Settle on some elaborate flower. 
And, like a bee, the sweets devour ! 
Now, of a rose enamour'd, prove 
The wild solicitudes of love ! 20 

Now, in a lily's cup enshrined. 
Forego the commerce of mankind ! 

As in these toils he wore away 
The calm remainder of his day ; 
Conducting sun, and shade, and shower. 
As most might glad the new-born flower. 
So fate ordain'd — before his eye 
Starts up the long-sought butterfly. 
While fluttering round, her plumes unfold 
Celestial crimson, dropt with gold. 30 

Adieu, ye bands of flowerets fair ! 
The living beauty claims his care : 
For this he strips — nor bolt nor chain 
Could Damon's warm pursuit restrain. 

See him o'er hill, morass, or mound. 
Where'er the speckled game is found. 
Though bent with age, with zeal pursue, 
And totter towards the prey in view. 



216 MORAL PIECES. 

Nor rock nor stream his steps retard 39 

Intent upon the blest reward ! 
One vassal flj repays the chase ! 
A wing, a film, rewards the race ! 
Rewards him, though disease attend, 
And in a fatal surfeit end. 
So fierce Camilla skimm'd the plain, 
Smit with the purple's pleasing stain ; 
She eyed intent the glittering stranger, 
And knew, alas ! nor fear nor danger ; 
Till deep within her panting heart 
Malicious Fate impell'd the dart. so 

How studious he what favourite food 
Regales Dame Nature's tiny brood ; 
What junkets fat the filmy people, 
And what liqueurs they choose to tipple ! 

Behold him, at some crise, prescribe, 
And raise with drugs the sickening tribe ! 
Or haply, when their spirits falter, 
Sprinkling my Lord of Cloyne's tar-water ! 

When Nature's brood of insects dies. 
See how he pimps for amorous flies ! 60 

See him the timely succour lend her, 
And help the wantons to engender ! 

Or see him guard their pregnant hour. 
Exert his soft obstetric power, 
And lending each his lenient hand, 
With new-born grubs enrich the land ! 

Wilks ! 1 what poet's loftiest lays 
Can match thy labours, and thy praise ? 
Immortal Sage ! by Fate decreed 
To guard the moth's illustrious breed ! 7o 

• ' Wilks : ' alluding to moths and buttei-flies, delineated by Benjamin 
Wilks. See his very expensive proposals. 



MORAL PIECES. 217 

Till fluttering swarms on swarms arise, 7i 

And all our wardrobes teem with flies ! 

And must we praise this taste for toys 1 
Admire it then in girls and boys. 
Ye youths of fifteen years, or more ! 
Resign your moths — the season's o'er; 
'Tis time more social joys to prove ; 
'Twere now your nobler task to love. 

Let 's eyes more deeply warm ; 

Nor, slighting Nature's fairest form, so 

The bias of your souls determine 
Towards the mean love of Nature's vermin. 

But, ah ! how wondrous few have known, 
To give each stage of life its own ! 

'Tis the pretexta's utmost bound. 
With radiant purple edged around, 
To please the child ; whose glowing dyes 
Too long delight maturer eyes : 
And few, but with regret, assume 
The plain-wrought labours of the loom. 90 

Ah ! let not me by fancy steer, 
When life's autumnal clouds appear; 
Nor even in learning's long delays 
Consume my fairest, fruitless days ; 
Like him, who should in armour spend 
The sums that armour should defend. 

Awhile in Pleasure's myrtle bower 
We share her smiles, and bless her power; 
But find at last, we vainly strive 
To fix the worst coquette alive. lOO 

you ! that with assiduous flame 
Have long pursued the faithless dame ; 
Forsake her soft abodes awhile. 
And dare her frowU;,. and slight her smile ; 



218 MORAL PIECES. 

Nor scorn, whatever wits may say, io5 

The footpath road, the king's highway ; 

No more the scrupulous charmer tease. 

But seek the roofs of honest Ease ; 

The rival fair, no more pursued, 

Shall there with forward pace intrude; no 

Shall there her every art essay 

To win you to her slighted sway, 

And grant your scorn a glance more fair 

Than e'er she gave your fondest prayer. 

But would you happiness pursue 1 
Partake both ease and pleasure too "? 
Would you, through all your days, dispense 
The joys of reason and of sense 1 
Or give to life the most you can 1 

Let social virtue shape the plan. 120 

For does not to the virtuous deed 

A train of pleasing sweets succeed ? 

Or, like the sweets of wild desire. 

Did social pleasures ever tire "? 

Yet midst the group be some preferr'd, 

Be some abhorr'd — for Damon err'd : 

And such there are — of fair address — 

As 'twere unsocial to caress. 

learn by Reason's equal rule 

To shun the praise of knave or fool ; 130 

Then, though you deem it better still 

To gain some rustic squire's good- will ; 

And souls, however mean or vile. 

Like features, brighten by a smile; 

Yet Reason holds it for a crime. 

The trivial breast should share thy time : 

And Virtue, with reluctant eyes. 

Beholds this human sacrifice ! 



MOEAL PIECES. 219 

Through deep reserve and air erect, 139 

Mistaken Damon won respect ; 
But could the specious homage pass 
With any creature, but an ass 1 
If conscious, they who fear'd the skin 
Would scorn the sluggish brute within. 
What awe-struck slaves the towers enclose, 
Where Persian monarchs eat and doze ! 
What prostrate reverence all agree 
To pay a prince they never see ! 
Mere vassals of a royal throne ; 
The Sophi's virtues must be shown, 150 

To make the reverence his own. 

As for Thalia — wouldst thou make her 
Thy bride without a portion "? — take her : 
She will with duteous care attend. 
And all thy pensive hours befriend ; 
Will swell thy joys, will share thy pain, 
With thee rejoice, with thee complain ; 
Will smooth thy pillow, plait thy bowers. 
And bind thy aching head with flowers. 
But be this previous maxim known — 160 

If thou canst feed on love alone ; 
If, bless'd with her, thou canst sustain 
Contempt, and poverty, and pain ; 
If so — then rifle all her graces — 
And fruitful be your fond embraces ! 

Too soon, by caitiff Spleen inspired, 
Sage Damon to his groves retired. 
The path disclaimed by sober Reason ; 
Retirement claims a later season, 
Ere active youth and warm desires, iro 

Have quite withdrawn their lingering fires. 



220 MORAL PIECES. 

With the warm bosom, ill agree i72 

Or limpid stream or shady tree ; 

Love lurks within the rosy bower, 

And claims the speculative hour; 

Ambition finds his calm retreat, > 

And' bids his pulse too fiercely beat ; 

Even social Friendship duns his ear, 

And cites him to the public sphere. 

Does he resist their genuine force"? iso 

His temper takes some froward course, 

Till passion, misdirected, sighs 

For weeds, or shells, or grubs, or flies! 

Far happiest he whose early days. 
Spent in the social paths of praise, 
Leave, fairly printed on his mind, 
A train of virtuous deeds behind : 
From this rich fund the memory drawls 
The lasting meed of self-applause. 

Such fiiir ideas lend their aid 190 

To people the sequester'd shade : 
Such are the Naiads, Nymphs, and Fawns, 
That haunt his floods or cheer his lawns. 
If, where his devious ramble strays. 
He Virtue's radiant form surveys. 
She seems no longer now to wear 
The rigid mien, the frown severe ; ^ 
To show him her remote abode, 
To point the rocky arduous road; 
But from each flower his fields allow, 200 

She twines a garland for his brow. 

' * The rigid mien, the frown severe : ' alluding to ' The Allegor}' ' in Cebes's 
Tablet. 



MORAL PIECES. 221 



ECONOMY. 



A RHAPSODY, ADDRESSED TO YOUNG POETS. 

Insanis ; omnes gelidis qusecunque lacernis 

Sunt tibi, Nasones Virgiliosque vides. Mart. 

PART FIRST. 

To you, ye Bards ! whose lavish breast requires 

This monitory lay, the strains belong; 

Nor think some miser vents his sapient saw, 

Or some dull cit, unfeeling of the charms 

That tempt profusion, sings; while friendly Zeal, 

To guard from fatal ills the tribe he loves, 

Inspires the meanest of the Muse's train ! 

Like you I loathe the grovelling progeny, 

Whose wily arts, by creeping time matured, 

Advance them high on Power's tyrannic throne, lo 

To lord it there in gorgeous uselessness, 

And spurn successless Worth that pines below ! 

See the rich churl, amid the social sons 
Of wine and wit, regaling ! hark, he joins 
In the free jest delighted ! seems to show 
A meliorated heart ! he laughs, he sings ! 
Songs of gay import, madrigals of glee, 
And drunken anthems, set agape the board, 
Like Demea,! in the play, benign and mild, 
And pouring forth benevolence of soul, 20 

Till Micio wonder; or, in Shakspeare's line, 
Obstreperous Silence, ^ drowning Shallow's voice, 
And startling FalstafF, and his mad compeers. 

» 'Demea:' in Terence's 'Adelphi.' — ^ 'Silence:' Justice Silence, in 
Shakspeare's ' Henry IV.,' second part. 



222 MORAL PIECES. 

He owns 'tis prudence, ever and anon 24 

To smooth his careful brow, to let his purse 
Ope to a sixpence's diameter ! 
He likes our ways; he owns the ways of wit 
Are ways of pleasance, and deserve regard. 
True, we are dainty good society, 
But what art thou 1 Alas ! consider well, so 

Thou bane of social pleasure, know thyself : 
Thy fell approach, like some invasive damp 
Breathed through the pores of earth from Stygian caves 
Destroys the lamp of mirth ; the lamp which we, 
Its flamens, boast to guard : we know not how, 
But at thy sight the fading flame assumes 
A ghastly blue, and in a stench expires. 

True, thou seem'st changed ; all sainted, all enskied : 
The trembling tears that charge thy melting eyes 
Say thou art honest and of gentle kind : 40 

But all is false ! an intermitting sigh 
Condemns each hour, each moment given to smiles. 
And deems those only lost thou dost not lose. 
Even for a demi-groat this open'd soul. 
This boon companion, this elastic breast, 
Revibrates quick; and sends the tuneful tongue 
To lavish music on the rugged walls 
Of some dark dungeon. Hence, thou Caitiff ! fly ; 
Touch not my glass, nor drain my sacred bowl. 
Monster, ingrate ! beneath one common sky 50 

Why shouldst thou breathe 1 beneath one common roof 
Thou ne'er shalt harbour, nor my little boat 
Receive a soul with crimes to press it down. 
Go to thy bags, thou Recreant ! hourly go. 
And, gazing there, bid them be wit, be mirth, 
Be conversation. Not a face that smiles 
Admits thy presence ! not a soul that glows 



MORAL PIECES. 223 

With social purport, bid, or even or moru, 68 

Invest thee happy ! but when hfe declines, 
May thy sure heirs stand tittering round thy bed, 
And, ushering in their favourites, burst thy locks, 
And fill their laps with gold, till Want and Care 
With joy depart, and cry, " We ask no more." 

Ah ! never, never may the harmonious mind 
Endure the worldly ! Poets, ever void 
Of guile, distrustless, scorn the treasured gold, 
And spurn the miser, spurn his deity. 
Balanced with friendship, in the poet's eye 
The rival scale of interest kicks the beam. 
Than lightning swifter. From his cavern'd store 70 
The sordid soul, with self-applause, remarks 
The kind propensity ; remarks and smiles. 
And hies with impious haste to spread the snare. 
Him we deride, and in our comic scenes 
Contemn the niggard form Moliere has drawn : 
We loathe with justice ; but, alas ! the pain 
To bow the knee before this calf of gold; 
Implore his envious aid, and meet his frown ! 

But 'tis not Gomez, 'tis not he whose heart 
Is crusted o'er with dross, whose callous mind so 

Is senseless as his gold, the slighted Muse 
Intensely loathes. 'Tis sure no equal task 
To pardon him who lavishes his wealth 
On racer, foxhound, hawk, or spaniel, aU 
But human merit ; who with gold essays 
All, but the noblest pleasure, to remove 
The wants of Genius, and its smiles enjoy. 

But you, ye titled youths ! whose nobler zeal 
Would burnish o'er your coronets with fame ; 
Who listen pleased when poet tunes his lay ; 90 

Permit him not, in distant solitudes. 



224 MORAL PIECES. 

To piue, to languish out the fleeting hours 92 

Of active youth ; then Virtue pants for praise. 

That season unadorn'd, the careless bard 

Quits your worn threshold, and, like honest Gay, 

Contemns the niggard boon ye time so ill. 

Your favours then, like trophies given the tomb, 

The enfranchised spirit soaring, not perceives. 

Or scorns perceived, and execrates the smile 

Which bade his vigorous bloom, to treacherous hopes 100 

And seiTile cares a prey, expire in vain ! 

Two lawless powers, engaged by mutual hate 
In endless war, beneath their flags enrol 
The vassal world : this, Avarice is named ; 
That, Luxury : 'tis true their partial friends 
Assign them softer names ; usurpers both ! 
That share by dint of arms the legal throne 
Of just Economy; yet both betray'd 
By fraudful ministers. The niggard chief, 
Listening to want, all faithless, and prepared no 

To join each moment in his rival's train, 
His conduct models by the needless fears 
The slave inspires, while Luxury, a chief 
Of amplest faith, to Plenty's rule resigns 
His whole campaign. 'Tis Plenty's flattering sounds 
Engross his ear; 'tis Plenty's smiling form 
Moves still before his eye. Discretion strives. 
But strives in vain, to banish from the throne 
The perjured minion : he, secure of trust. 
With latent malice to the hostile camp, 120 

Day, night, and hour, his monarch's wealth conveys. 

Ye towering minds! ye sublimated souls! 
Who, careless of your fortunes, seal and sign. 
Set, let, contract, acquit, with easier mien 
Than fops take snuff"! whose economic care 
Your gi'een silk purse engrosses ! easy, pleased, 



MOEAL PIECES. 225 

To see gold sparkle through the subtle folds ; 127 

Lovely, as when the Hesperian fruitage smiled 

Amid the verdurous grove! who fondly hope 

Spontaneous harvests! harvests all the year! 130 

Who scatter wealth, as though the radiant crop 

Glitter d on every bough; and every bough, 

Like that the Trojan ^ gather'd, once avulsed. 

Were by a splendid successor supplied 

Instant, spontaneous listen to my lays ; 

For 'tis not fools, whate'er proverbial phrase 

Have long decreed, that quit with greatest ease 

The treasured gold. Of words indeed profuse. 

Of gold tenacious, their torpescent soul 

Clenches their coin; and what electral fire 140 

Shall solve the frosty gripe, and bid it flowl 

'Tis Genius, Fancy, that to wild expense 

Of health, of treasure, stimulates the soul ; 

These, with officious care, and fatal art. 

Improve the vinous flavour; these the smile 

Of Cloe soften : these the glare of dress 

Illume ; the glittering chariot gild anew. 

And add strange wisdom to the furs of Power. 

Alas ! that he, amid the race of men, 
That he who thinks of purest gold with scorn, i5o 

Should with unsated appetite demand, 
And vainly court the pleasure it procures! 
When Fancy's vivid spark impels the soul 
To scorn quotidian scenes, to spurn the bliss 
Of vulgar minds, what nostrum shall compose 
Its fatal tension 1 in what lonely vale 
Of balmy Medicine's various field, aspires 
The blest refrigerant 1 Vain, ah ! vain the hope 
Of future peace, this orgasm uncontroU'd ! 

' ' Trojan r' Eneas in Virgil. 
P 



226 MORAL PIECES. 

Impatient, hence, of all the frugal mind leo 

Requires ; to eat, to drink, to sleep, to fill 

A chest with gold, the sprightly breast demands 

Incessant rapture; life, a tedious load 

Denied its continuity of joy. 

But whence obtain ? philosophy requires 

No lavish cost ; to crown its utmost prayer 

Suffice the root-built cell, the simple fleece, 

The juicy viand, and the crystal stream. 

Even mild Stupidity rewards her train 

With cheap contentment. Taste alone requires iro 

Entire profusion ! Days, and nights, and hours, 

Thy voice, hydropic Fancy ! calls aloud 

For costly draughts, inundant bowls of joy, 

Rivers of rich regalement, seas of bliss — 

Seas without shore, infinity of sweets ! 

And yet, unless sage Reason join her hand 
In Pleasure's purchase, Pleasure is unsure ! 
And yet, unless Economy's consent 
Legitimate expense, some graceless mark, 
Some symptom ill conceal'd, shall, soon or late, iso 

Burst like a pimple from the vicious tide 
Of acid blood, proclaiming Want's disease. 
Amidst the bloom of show. The scanty stream. 
Slow-loitering in its channel, seems to vie 
Witli Vaga's depth ; but should the sedgy power, 
Vain-glorious, empty his penurious urn 
O'er tlie rough rock, how must his fellow streams 
Deride the tinklings of the boastive rill ! 

I not aspire to mark the dubious path 
That leads to wealth, to poets mark'd in vain ! i90 

But, ere self-flattery soothe the vivid breast 
With dreams of fortune near allied to fame, 
Reflect how few, who charm'd the listening ear 



MORAL PIECES. 227 

Of satrap or of king, her smiles enjoyed ! 194 

Consider well, what meagre alms repaid 

The great Ma3onian ! ^ fire of tuneful song. 

And prototype of all that soar'd sublime, 

And left dull cares below ; what griefs impell'd 

The modest bard ^ of learn'd Eliza's reign 

To swell with tears his Mulla's parent stream, 200 

And mourn aloud the pang, " to ride, to run, 

To spend, to give, to want, to be undone." 

Why should 1 tell of Cowley's pensive Muse, 

Beloved in vain 1 too copious is my theme ! 

Which of your boasted race might hope reward 

Like loyal Butler, when the liberal Charles, 

The judge of wit, perused the sprightly page. 

Triumphant o'er his foes 1 Believe not Hope, 

The poet's parasite ; but learn alone 

To spare the scanty boon the Fates decree. 210 

Poet and rich ! 'tis solecism extreme ! 

^Tis heighten'd contradiction ! in his frame, 

In every nerve and fibre of his soul. 

The latent seeds and principles of want 

Has Nature wove, and Fate confirm'd the clue. 

Nor yet despair to shun the ruder gripe 
Of Penury : with nice precision learn 
A dollar's value. Foremost in the page 
That marks the expense of each revolving year, 
Place inattention. When the lust of praise, 220 

Or honour's false idea, tempts thy soul 
To slight frugality, assure thine heart 
That danger's near. This perishable coin 
Is no vain ore. It is thy liberty ; 
It fetters misers, but it must alone 
Enfranchise thee. The world, the cit-like world, 
Bids thee beware ; thy little craft essay ; 

' ' Mjponian : ' Homer. * ' Modest bard : ' Spenser. 



228 MORAL PIECES. 

Nor, piddling with a tea-spoon's slender form, 228 

See with soup-ladles devils gormandize. 

Economy ! thou good old aunt, whose mien, 
Furrow'd with age and care, the wise adore, 
The wits contemn ! reserving still thj stores 
To cheer thy friends at last ! why with the cit 
Or bookless churl, with each ignoble name. 
Each earthly nature, deign'st thou to reside ? 
And shunning all, who by thy favours crown'd 
Might glad the world, to seek some vulgar mind. 
Inspiring pride, and selfish shapes of ill "? 

Why with the old, infirm, and impotent, 
And childless, love to dwell ; yet leave the breast 240 
Of youth unwarn'd, unguided, uninform'd ? 
Of youth, to w^hom thy monitory voice 
Were doubly kind "? for, sure, to youthful eyes, 
(How short soe'er it prove), the road of life 
Appears protracted ; fair on either side 
The Loves, the Graces play, on Fortune's child 
Profusely smiling : well might youth essay 
The frugal plan, the lucrative employ, 
Source of their favour all the livelong day ; 
But Fate assents not. Age alone contracts 250 

His meagre palm, to clench the tempting bane 
Of all his peace, the glittering seeds of care ! 

that the Muse's voice might pierce the ear 
Of generous youth ! for youth deserves her song. 
Youth is fair virtue's- season, virtue then 
Requires the pruner's hand ; the sequent stage. 
It barely vegetates ; nor long the space 
Ere, robb'd of warmth, its arid trunk displays 
Fell Winter's total reign. lovely source 
Of generous foibles, youth ! when opening minds 260 
Are honest as the light, lucid as air. 



MOEAL PIECES. 229 

As fostering breezes kiud, as linnets gay, 262 

Tender as buds, and lavish as the spring ! 
Yet, hapless state of man ! his earliest youth 
Cozens itself; his age defrauds mankind. 

Nor deem it strange that rolling years abrade 
The social bias. Life's extensive page, 
What does it but unfold repeated proofs 
Of gold's omnipotence 1 With patriots, friends, 
Sickening beneath its ray, enervate some, 270 

And others dead, whose putrid name exhales 
A noisome scent, the bulky volume teems : 
With kinsmen, brothers, sons, moistening the shroud. 
Or honouring the grave, with specious grief 
Of short duration ; soon in fortune's beams 
Alert, and wondering at the tears they shed. 

But who shall save, by tame prosaic strain. 
That glowing breast where wit with youth conspires 
To sweeten luxury ? The fearful Muse 
Shall yet proceed, though by the faintest gleam 28O 

Of hope inspired, to warn the train she loves. 

PAET SECOND. 

In some dark season, when the misty shower 

Obscures the sun, and saddens all the sky, 

When linnets drop the wing, nor grove nor stream 

Invites thee forth, to sport thy drooping muse ; 

Seize the dull hour, nor with regret assign 

To worldly Prudence. She, nor nice nor coy, 

Accepts the tribute of a joyless day ; 

She smiles well pleased when wit and mirth recede, 

And not a Grace, and not a Muse will hear. 

Then, from majestic Maro's awful strain, 10 

Or towering Homer, let thine eye descend 

To trace, with patient industry, the page 



230 MORAL PIECES. 

Of income and expense : and, oli ! beware is 

Thy breast, self-flattering ; place no courtly smile, 

No golden promise of your faithless ]\Iuse, 

Nor latent mine wliicli Fortune's hand may show. 

Amid thy solid store : the Siren's song 

Wrecks not the listening sailor, half so sure. 

See by what avenues, what devious paths. 

The foot of Want, detested, steals along, 20 

And bars each fatal pass ! Some few short hours 

Of punctual care, the refuse of thy year, 

On frugal schemes employ'd, shall give the Muse 

To sing intrepid many a cheerful day. 

But if too soon before the tepid gales 
Thy resolution melt ; and ardent vows, 
In wary hours preferr'd, or die forgot, 
Or seem the forced effect of hazy skies ; 
Then, ere surprise, by whose impetuous rage 
The massy fort, with which thy gentler breast 30 

I not compare, is won, the song proceeds. 

Know, too, by Nature's undiminish'd law. 
Throughout her realms obey'd, the various parts 
Of deep creation, atoms, systems, all. 
Attract, and are attracted ; nor prevails the law 
Alone in matter ; soul alike with soul 
Aspires to join ; nor yet in souls alone ; 
In each idea it imbibes, is found 
The kind propensity ; and when they meet 
And grow familiar, various though their tribe, 40 

Their tempers various, vow perpetual faith; 
That, should the world's disjointed frame once more 
To chaos yield the sway, amid the wreck 
Their union should survive ; with Roman warmth. 
By sacred hospitable laws endear'd. 
Should each idea recollect its friend. 



MORAL PIECES. 231 

Here tlien we fix ; on this perennial base 47 

Erect thy safety, and defy the storm. 
Let soft Profusion's fair idea join 
Her hand with Poverty; nor here desist, 
Till o'er the group that forms their various train 
Thou sing loud hymeneals. Let the pride 
Of outward show in lasting leagues combine 
With shame threadbare ; the gay vermilion face 
Of rash Intemperance be discreetly pair'd 
With sallow Hunger : the licentious joy 
With mean dependence ; even the dear delight 
Of sculpture, paint, intaglios, books, and coins. 
Thy breast, sagacious Prudence ! shall connect 
With filth and beggary; nor disdain to link 60 

With black Insolvency. Thy soul, alarm'd. 
Shall shun the Siren's voice ; nor boldly dare 
To bid the soft enchantress share thy breast. 
With such a train of horrid fiends conjoin'd. 

Nor think, ye sordid race ! ye grovelling minds ! 
I frame the song for you ; for you the Muse 
Could other rules impart. The friendly strain. 
For gentler besoms plann'd, to yours would prove 
The juice of lurid aconite, exceed 
Whatever Colchos bore ; and in your breast 70 

Compassion, love, and friendship, all destroy ! 

It greatly shall avail, if e'er thy stores 
Increase apace, by periodic days 
Of annual payment, or thy patron's boon. 
The lean reward of gross unbounded praise ! 
It much avails, to seize the present hour, 
And, undeliberating, call around 
Thy hungry creditors ; their horrid rage, 
When once appeased, the small remaining store 
Shall rise in weight tenfold, in lustre rise, so 



232 MORAL PIECES. 

As gold improved by many a fierce assay. si 

'Tis tliiis the frugal husbandman directs 

His narrow stream, if o'er its wonted banlis, 

By sudden rains impell'd, it proudly swell ; 

His timely hand through better tracts conveys 

The quick decreasing tide : ere borne along, 

Or through the wild morass, or cultured fields. 

Or bladed grass mature, or barren sands, 

It flow destructive, or it flow in vain. 

But happiest he who sanctifies expense 90 

By present pay; who subjects not his fame 

To tradesmen's varlets, nor bequeaths his name, 

His honour'd name, to deck the vulgar page 

Of base mechanic, sordid, unsincere ! 

There haply, while thy Muse sublimely soars 

Beyond this earthly sphere, in heaven's abodes. 

And dreams of nectar and ambrosial sweets, 

Thy growing debt steals unregarded o'er 

The punctual record ; till nor Phoebus self, 

Nor sage Minerva's art, can aught avail 100 

To soothe the ruthless dun's detested rage : 

Frantic and fell, with many a curse profane 

He loads the gentle Muse, then hurls thee down 

To want, remorse, captivity, and shame. 

Each public place, the glittering haunts of men, 
With horror fly. Why loiter near thy bane 1 — 
Why fondly linger on a hostile shore, 
Disarm'd, defenceless 'i why require to tread 
The precipice 1 or why, alas ! to breathe 
A moment's space, where every breeze is death, 110 
Death to thy future peace 1 Away, collect 
Thy dissipated mind ; contract thy train 
Of wild ideas, o'er the flowery fields 
Of show diffused, and speed to safer climes. 



MORAL PIECES. 233 

Economy presents her glass, accept 115 

The faithful mirror, powerful to disclose 

A thousand forms, unseen bj careless eyes, 

That plot thy fate. Temptation in a robe 

Of Tyrian dye, with every sweet perfumed, 

Besets thy sense ; Extortion follows close 120 

Her wanton step, and Ruin brings the rear. 

These and the rest shall her mysterious glass 

Embody to thy view ; like Venus kind. 

When to her labouring son, the vengeful powers 

That urged the fall of Ilium, she displayed : 

He, not imprudent, at the sight declined 

The unequal conflict, and decreed to raise 

The Trojan welfare on some happier shore. 

For here to drain thy swelling purse await 

A thousand arts, a thousand frauds attend : 130 

" The cloud-wrought canes, the gorgeous snuff-boxes, 

The twinkling jewels, and the gold etui, 

With all its bright inhabitants, shall waste 

Its melting stores, and in the dreary void 

Leave not a doit behind." Ere yet, exhaust, 

Its flimsy folds offend thy pensive eye. 

Away ! embosom'd deep in distant shades. 

Nor seen nor seeing, thou mayst vent thy scorn 

Of lace, embroidery, purple, gems, and gold ! 

There of the faded fop and essenced beau, 140 

Ferocious, with a Stoic's frown disclose 

Thy manly scorn, averse to tinsel pomp ; 

And fluent thine harangue. But can thy soul 

Deny thy limbs the radiant grace of dress. 

Where dress is merit ? where thy graver friend 

Shall wish thee burnish'd % where the sprightly fair 

Demand embellishment ? even Delia's eye. 

As in a garden, roves, of hues alone 



234 MORAL PIECES. 

luquirent, curious '? Fly the cursed domain ; 149 

These are are the realms of luxury and show, 

No classic soil ; away ! the bloomy spring 

Attracts thee hence ; the warning autumn warns ; 

Fly to thy native shades, and dread, even there. 

Lest busy fancy tempt thy narrow state 

Beyond its bounds. Observe Florclio's mien : 

Why treads my friend with melancholy step 

That beauteous lawn "? why, pensive, strays his eye 

O'er statues, grottos, urns, by critic art 

Proportion'd fair'? or from his lofty dome, 

Bright glittering through the grove, returns his eye ico 

Unpleased, disconsolate 1 And is it love, 

Disastrous love, that robs the finish'd scenes 

Of all their beauty, centering all in her 

His soul adores ■? or from a blacker cause 

Springs this remorseful gloom 1 Is conscious guilt 

The latent source of more than love's despair ? 

It cannot be within that polish'd breast. 

Where science dwells, that guilt should harbour there. 

No ; 'tis the sad survey of present want 

And past profusion ! lost to him the sweets 170 

Of yon pavilion, fraught with every charm 

For other eyes ; or if remaining, proofs 

Of criminal expense ! Sweet interchange 

Of river, valley, mountain, woods, and plains ! 

How gladsome once he ranged your native turf. 

Your simple scenes, how raptured ! ere Expense 

Had lavish'd thousand ornaments, and taught 

Convenience to perplex him, Art to pall, 

Pomp to deject, and Beauty to displease ! 

Oh ! for a soul to all the glare of wealth, 180 

To Fortune's wide exhaustless treasury. 
Nobly superior ! but let Caution guide 



MORAL PIECES. 235 

The coy disposal of the wealth we scorn, iss 

And Prudence be our x\lmoner. Alas ! 

The pilgrim wandering o'er some distant clime, 

Sworn foe of avarice ! nor disdains to learn 

Its coin's imputed worth, the destined means 

To smooth his passage to the favour'd shrine. 

Ah ! let not us, who tread this stranger world, 

Let none who sojourn on the realms of life, 190 

Forget the land is mercenary, nor waste 

His fare, ere lauded on no venal shore. 

Let never bard consult Palladio's rules ; 
Let never bard, Burlington ! survey 
Thy learned art, in Chiswick's dome displayVl ; 
Dangerous incentive ! nor with lingering eye 
Survey the window Venice calls her own. 
Better for him, with no ingrateful Muse, 
To sing a requiem to that gentle soul 
Who plann'd the skylight, which to lavish bards 200 
Conveys alone the pure ethereal ray ; 
For garrets him, and squalid walls, await. 
Unless, presageful, from this friendly strain 
He glean advice, and shun the scribbler's doom. 

PAET THIRD. 

Yet once again, and to thy douBtful fate 

The trembling Muse consigns thee. Ere contempt, 

Or Want's empoisOn'd arrow, ridicule, 

Transfix thy weak unguarded breast, behold ! 

The poet's roofs, the careless poet's, his 

Who scorns ad^-ice, shall close my serious lay. 

When Gulliver, now great, now little deem'd. 
The plaything of Comparison, arrived 
Where learned bosoms their aerial schemes 
Projected, studious of the public weal ; 10 



236 MORAL PIECES. 

'Mid these, one subtler artist he descried, ii 

Who cherish'd in his dusty tenement 

The spider's web, injurious, to supplant 

Fair Albion's fleeces ! Never, never may 

Our monarchs on such fatal purpose smile. 

And irritate !Minerva's bcggar'd sons, 

The Melksham weavers ! Here in every nook 

Their wefts they spun ; here revell'd uncontroll'd, 

And, like the flags from Westminster's high roof 

Dependent, here their fluttering textures waved. 20 

Such, so adorn'd the cell I mean to sing ! 

Cell ever squalid ! where the sneerful maid 

Will not fatigue her hand ! broom never comes. 

That comes to all ! o'er whose quiescent walls 

Arachne's unmolested care has drawn 

Curtains subsusk, and save the expense of art. 

Survey those walls, in fady texture clad, 
Where wandering snails in many a slimy path. 
Free, unrestrain'd, their various journeys crawl ; 
Peregrinations strange, and labyrinths so 

Confused, inextricable ! such the clue 
Of Cretan Ariadne ne'er explain'd ! 
Hooks ! andes ! crooks ! and involutions wild ! 
Meantime, thus silver'd with meanders gay. 
In mimic pride the snail-wrought tissue shines. 
Perchance of tabby, or of aretine. 
Not ill expressive ; such the power of snails ! 

Behold his chair, whose fractured seat infirm 
An aged cushion hides ! replete with dust 
The foliaged velvet ; pleasing to the eye 40 

Of great Eliza's reign, but now the snare 
Of weary guest that on the specious bed 
Sits down confiding. Ah ! disastrous wight ! 
In evil hour and rashly dost thou trust 



MORAL PIECES. 237 

The fraiidful couch ! for though in velvet cased, 45 

Thy fated thigh shall kiss the dusty floor. 

The traveller thus, that o'er Hibernian plains 

Hath shaped his way, on beds profuse of flowers. 

Cowslip, or primrose, or the circular eye 

Of daisy fair, decrees to bask supine. 50 

And see ! delighted, down he drops, secure 

Of sweet refreshment, ease without annoy. 

Or luscious noonday nap. Ah ! much deceived. 

Much sufiering pilgrim ! thou nor noonday nap 

Nor sweet repose shalt find ; the false morass 

In quivering undulations yields beneath 

Thy burden, in the miry gulf enclosed ! 

And who would trust appearance 1 cast thine eye 

Where 'mid machines of heterogeneous form 

His coat depends; alas! his only coat, 60 

Eldest of things! and napless as an heath 

Of small extent by fleecy myriads grazed. 

Not difi'erent have I seen in dreary vault 

Display'd a coffin; on each sable side 

The texture unmolested seems entire; 

Fraudful, when touch'd it glides to dust away. 

And leaves the wondering swain to gape, to stare, 

And with expressive shrug and piteous sigh, 

Declare the fatal force of rolling years. 

Or dire extent of frail mortality. 70 

This aged vesture, scorn of gazing beaus. 

And formal cits (themselves too haply scorn'd). 

Both on its sleeve, and on its skirt, retains 

Full many a pin wide-sparkling : for, if e'er 

Their well-known crest met his delighted eye, 

Though wrapt in thought, commercing with the sky, 

He, gently stooping, scorn'd not to upraise, 

And on each sleeve, as conscious of their use. 



238 MORAL PIECES. 

Indenting fix them; nor, when arm'd witli these, 79 

The cure of rents and separations dire, 

And chasms enormous, did lie view, dismay'd, 

Hedge, bramble, thicket, bush, "portending fate 

To breeches, coat, and hose! had any wight 

Of vulgar skill the tender texture own'd ; 

But gave his mind to form a sonnet quaint 

Of Silvia's shoe-string, or of Chloe's fan. 

Or sweetlj-fashion'd tip of Celia's ear. 

Alas ! bj frequent use decays the force 

Of mortal art! the refractory robe 

Eludes the tailor's art, eludes his OM'n; 90 

How potent once, in union quaint conjoin'd ! 

See, near his bed (his bed, too falsely call'd 
The place of rest, while it a bard sustains; 
Pale, meagre, muse-rid wight! who reads in vain 
Narcotic volumes o'er) his candlestick. 
Radiant machine ! when from the plastic hand 
Of Mulciber, the Mayor of Birmingham, 
The engine issued ; now, alas ! disguised 
By many an unctuous tide, that wandering down 
Its sides congeal ; what he, perhaps, essays, lOO 

With humour forced, and ill- dissembled smile, 
Idly to liken to the poplar's trunk, , 

When o'er its bark the lucid amber, wound 
In many a pleasing fold, incrusts the tree ; 
Or suits him more the winter's candied thorn, 
When from each branch, annealed, the works of frost 
Pervasive, radiant icicles depend 1 

How shall I sing the various ills that wait 
The careful sonneteer 1 or who can paint 
The shifts enormous, that in vain he forms no 

To patch his paneless window ; to cement 
His batter'd tea-pot, ill-retentive vase. 



MORAL PIECES. 239 

To war with ruin "? anxious to conceal 113 

Want's fell appearance, of the real ill 

Nor foe, nor fearful. Ruin unforeseen 

Invades his chattels ; Ruin will invade, 

Will claim his whole invention to repair, 

Nor of the gift, for tuneful ends design'd. 

Allow one part to decorate his song ; 

While Ridicule, with ever-pointing hand, lac 

Conscious of everj shift, of every shift 

Indicative, his inmost plot betrays, 

Points to the nook, which he his Study calls, 

Pompous and vain ! for thus he might esteem 

His chest a wardrobe ; purse, a treasury ; 

And shows, to crown her full display, himself; 

One whom the powers above, in place of health 

And wonted vigour, of paternal cot. 

Or little farm ; of bag, or scrip, or staff, 

Cup, dish, spoon, plate, or worldly utensil, 130 

A poet framed, yet framed not to repine. 

And wish the cobbler's loftiest site his own ; 

Nor, partial as they seem, upbraid the Fates, 

Who to the humbler mechanism join'd 

Goods so superior, such exalted bliss ! 

See with what seeming ease, what labour'd peace, 
He, hapless hypocrite ! refines his nail, 
His chief amusement ! then how feign'd, how forced, 
That care-defying sonnet, which implies 
His debts discharged, and he of half-a-crown i40 

In full possession, uncontested right 
And property ! Yet, ah ! whoe'er this wight 
Admiring view, if such there be, distrust 
The vain pretence, the smiles that harbour grief, 
As lurks the serpent deep in flowers enwreath'd. 
Forewarn'd, be frugal, or with prudent rage 



240 MORAL PIECES. 

Thj pen demolisli ; choose the trustier flail, 147 

And bless those labours which the choice inspired. 

But if thou view'st a vulgar mind, a wight 

Of common sense, who seeks no brighter name, 

Him envy, him admire ; him, from thy breast, 

Prescient of future dignities, salute 

Sheriff, or mayor, in comfortable furs 

Enwrapt, secure ; nor yet the laureat's crown 

In thought exclude him ! he perchance shall rise 

To nobler heights than foresight can decree. 

When fired with wrath for his intrigues display'd 
In many an idle song, Saturnian Jove 
Vow'd sure destruction to the tuneful race ; 
Appeased by suppliant Phoebus ; " Bards," he said, leo 
" Henceforth of plenty, wealth and pomp debarr'd. 
But fed by frugal cares, might wear the bay 
Secure of thunder."' — Low the Delian bow'd, 
Nor at the invidious favour dared repine. 



THE RUINED ABBEY ; 

OE, THE EFFECTS OF SUPERSTITION. 

At length fair Peace, with olive crowu'd, regains 
Her lawful throne, and to the sacred haunts 
Of wood or fount the frighted Muse returns. 

Happy the bard who, from his native hills, 
Soft musing on a summer's eve, surveys 
His azure stream, with pensile woods enclosed ; 
Or o'er the glassy surface with his friend, 
Or faithful fair, through bordering willows green, 



MORAL PIECES. 241 

Wafts his small frigate. Fearless he of shouts, 9 

Or taunts, the rhetoric of the watery crew 

That ape confusion from the realms they rule ; 

Fearless of these ; who shares the gentler voice 

Of peace and music ; birds of sweetest song 

Attune from native boughs their various lay, 

And cheer the forest ; birds of brighter plume 

With busy pinion skim the glittering wave, 

And tempt the sun; ambitious to display 

Their several merit, while the vocal flute 

Or number'd verse, by female voice endear'd, 

Crowns his delight, and mollifies the scene. 20 

If solitude his wandering steps invite 
To some more deep recess (for hours there are 
When gay, when social minds to Friendship's voice, 
Or Beauty's charm, her wild abodes prefer), 
How pleased he treads her venerable shades. 
Her solemn courts ! the centre of the grove ! 
The root-built cave, by fai* extended rocks 
Around embosom' d, how it soothes the soul ! 
If scoop'd at first by superstitious hands, 
The rugged cell received alone the shoals 30 

Of bigot minds, Religion dwells not here, 
Yet Virtue, pleased at intervals retires : 
Yet here may Wisdom, as she walks the maze. 
Some serious truths collect, the rules of life. 
And serious truths of mightier weight than gold ! 

I ask not wealth ; but let me hoard with care, 
With frugal cunning, with a niggard's art, 
A few fix'd principles, in early life. 
Ere indolence impede the search, explored ; 
Then, like old Latimer, when age impairs 40 

My judgment's eye, when quibbling schools attack 

Q 



242 MORAL PIECES. 

Mj grounded hope, or subtler wits deride, 42 

Will I not blush to shun the vain debate, 

And this mine answer : " Thus, 'twas thus I thought, 

Mj mind yet vigorous, and my soul entire ; 

Thus will I think, averse to listen more 

To intricate discussion, prone to stray. 

Perhaps my reason may but ill defend 

My settled faith ; my mind, with age impair'd, 

Too sure its own infirmities declare. 50 

But I am arm'd by caution, studious youth, 

And early foresight : now the winds may rise. 

The tempest whistle, and the billows roar ; 

My pinnace rides in port, despoil'd and worn, 

Shatter'd by time and storms, but while it shuns 

The unequal conflict, and declines the deep, 

Sees the strong vessel fluctuate, less secure." 

Thus while he strays, a thousand rural scenes 
Suggest instruction, and instructing please. 
And see betwixt the grove's extended arms 60 

An Abbey's rude remains attract thy view, 
Gilt by the mid-day sun : with lingering step 
Produce thine axe (for, aiming to destroy 
Tree, branch, or shade, for never shall thy breast 
Too long deliberate), with timorous hand 
Remove the obstructive bough ; nor yet refuse, 
Though sighing, to destroy that favourite pine, 
Raised by thine hand, in its luxuriant prime 
Of beauty fair, that screens the vast remains. 
Aggrieved, but constant as the Roman sire, 70 

The rigid Manlius, w^hen his conquering son 
Bled by a parent's voice, the cruel meed 
Of virtuous ardour, timelessly display'd ; 
Nor cease till, through the gloomy road, the pile 
Gleam unobstructed : thither oft thine eye 



MORAL PIECES. 243 

Shall sweetly wander ; thence returning, soothe 76 

With pensive scenes thy philosophic mind. 

These were thy haunts, thy opulent abodes, 
Superstition ! hence the dire disease 
(Balanced with which the famed Athenian pest so 

Were a short headache, were the trivial pain 
Of transient indigestion) seized mankind. 

Long time she raged, and scarce a southern gale 
Warm'd our chill air, unloaded with the threats 
Of tyrant Rome ; but futile all, till she, 
Rome's abler legate, magnified their power, 
And in a thousand horrid forms attired. 

Where then was truth to sanctify the page 
Of British annals '? if a foe expired, 
The perjured monk suborn'd infernal shrieks, 90 

And fiends to snatch at the departing soul 
With hellish emulation : if a friend. 
High o'er his roof exultant angels tune 
Their golden lyres, and waft him to the skies. 

What then were vows, were oaths, were plighted faitli 1 
The sovereign's just, the subject's loyal pact, 
To cherish mutual good, annuU'd and vain 
By Roman magic, grew an idle scroll 
Ere the frail sanction of the wax was cold. 

With thee, Plantagenet ! ^ from civil broils lOo 

The land awhile respired, and all was peace. 
Then Becket rose, and, impotent of mind. 
From regal courts with lawless fury march'd 
The Church's blood-stain'd convicts, and forgave ; 
Bid murderous priests the sovereign frown contemn. 
And with unhallow'd crosier bruised the crown. 

Yet yielded not supinely tame a prince 

^ ' Plantagenet : ' Henry II. 



244 MORAL PIECES. 

Of Henry's virtues; learn'd, courageous, wise, los 

Of fair ambition. Long his regal soul, 

Firm and erect, the peevish priest exiled, 

And braved the furj of revengeful Rome. 

In vain ! let one faint malady diffuse 

The pensive gloom which Superstition loves, 

And see him, dwindled to a recreant groom, 

Rein the proud palfrey while the priest ascends ! 

Was Coeur-de-Lion ^ blest with whiter days '? 
Here the cowl'd zealots with united cries 
Urged the crusade ; and see ! of half his stores 
Despoil'd the wretch, whose wiser bosom chose 
To bless his friends, his race, his native land. 120 

Of ten fair suns that rode their annual race. 
Not one beheld him on his vacant throne ; 
While haughty Longchamp, ^ ^nid his liveried files 
Of wanton vassals, spoil'd his faithful realm, 
Battling in foreign fields; collecting" wide 
A laurel harvest for a pillaged land. 

Oh ! dear-bought trophies ! when a prince deserts 
His drooping realm, to pluck the barren sprays ! 

When faithless John usurp'd the sullied crown, 
What ample tyranny ! the groaning land 130 

Deem'd earth, deem'd heaven, its foe ! Six tedious years 
Our helpless fathers in despair obey'd 
The papal interdict ; and who obey'd 
The sovereign plunder'd. inglorious days ! 
When the French tyrant, by the futile grant 
Of papal rescript, claim'd Britannia's throne. 
And durst invade ! be such inglorious days 
Or hence forgot, or not recall'd in vain ! 

Scarce had the tortured ear, dejected, heard 

• ' Coeur-de-Lion : ' Richard I. — * ' Longchamp : ' Bishop of Ely, Lord 
Chancellor. 



MORAL PIECES. 245 

Rome's loud anathema, but heartless, dead i40 

To every purpose, men nor wish'd to live 
Nor dared to die. The poor laborious hind 
Heard the dire curse, and from his trembling hand 
Fell the neglected crook that ruled the plain : 
Thence journeying home, in every cloud he sees 
A vengeful angel, in whose waving scroll 
He reads damnation; sees its sable train 
Of grim attendants, pencill'd by despair ! 

The weary pilgrim from remoter climes 
By painful steps arrived ; his home, his friends, i50 

His offspring left, to lavish on the shrine 
Of some far-honour'd saint his costly stores, 
Inverts his foot-step ; sickens at the sight 
Of the barr'd fane, and silent sheds his tear. 

The wretch, whose hope by stern Oppression chased 
From every earthly bliss, still as it saw 
Triumphant wrong, took wing, and flew to heaven, 
And rested there, now mourn'd his refuge lost, 
And wonted peace. The sacred fane was barr'd ; 
And the lone altar, where the mourners throng'd 160 
To supplicate remission, smoked no more : 
While the green weed luxuriant round uprose, 
Some from their deathbed, whose delirious faith 
Through every stage of life to Rome's decrees 
Obsequious, humbly hoped to die in peace, 
Now saw the ghastly king approach, begirt 
In tenfold terrors ; now expiring heard 
The last loud clarion sound, and Heaven's decree 
With unremitting vengeance bar the skies. 
Nor light the grief, by Superstition weigh'd, 170 

That their dishonour'd corse, shut from the verge 
Of hallow'd earth, or tutelary fane, 
Must sleep with brutes, their vassals, on the field, 



246 MORAL PIECES. 

Unneath some path, in marl unexercised ! i74 

No solemn bell extort a neighbour's tear ! 
No tongue of priest pronounce their soul secure, 
Nor fondest friend assure their peace obtain'd! 

The priest, alas! so boundless was the ill, 
He, like the flock he pillaged, pined forlorn ; 
The vivid vermeil fled his fadj cheek; i8o 

And his big paunch, distended with the spoils 
Of half his ilock, emaciate, groan'd beneath 
Superior pride, and mightier lust of power ! 
'Twas now Rome's fondest friend, whose meagre hand 
Told to the midnight lamp his holj beads 
With nice precision, felt the deeper wound, 
As his guU'd soul revered the conclave more. 

Whom did the ruin spare 1 for wealth, for power. 
Birth, honour, virtue, enemy, and friend. 
Sunk helpless, in the dreary gulf involved, 190 

And one capricious curse enveloped all ! 

Were kings secure 1 in towering stations born, 
In flattery nursed, inured to scorn mankind, 
Or view diminish'd from their site sublime ; 
As when a shepherd, from the lofty brow 
Of some proud clifi" surveys his lessening flock 
In snowy groups diffiisive stud the vale. 

Awhile the furious menace Jolm return'd, 
And breathed defiance loud. Alas ! too soon 
Allegiance sickening, saw its sovereign yield, 200 

An angry prey to scruples not his own. 
The loyal soldier, girt around with strength. 
Who stole from mirth and wine his blooming years. 
And seized the falchion, resolute to guard 
His sovereign's right, impalsied at the news. 
Finds the firm bias of his soul reversed 
For foul desertion ; drops the lifted steel, 



MORAL PIECES. 247 

And quits Fame's noble harvest, to expire 208 

The death of monks, of surfeit and of sloth ! 

At length, fatigued with wrongs, the servile king 
Drain'd from his land its small remaining stores 
To buy remission. But could these obtain 1 
No ! resolute in wrongs the priest obdured, 
Till crawling base, to Rome's deputed slave, 
His fame, his people, and his crown, he gave. 
Mean monarch! slighted, braved, abhorr'd, before! 

And now, appeased bj delegated sway, 
The wily pontiff scorns not to recall 
His interdictions. Now the sacred doors 
Admit repentant multitudes, prepared 220 

To buy deceit ; admit obsequious tribes 
Of satraps : princes crawling to the shrine 
Of sainted villany ! the pompous tomb 
Dazzling with gems and gold, or in a cloud 
Of incense wreath'd amidst a drooping land 
That sigh'd for bread ! 'Tis thus the Indian clove 
Displays its verdant leaf, its crimson flower, 
And sheds its odours ; while the flocks around, 
Hungry and faint, the barren sands explore 
In vain ! nor plant nor herb endears the soil, 230 

Drain'd and exhaust to swell its thirsty pores. 
And furnish luxury. — Yet, yet in vain 
Britannia strove ; and whether artful Rome 
Caress'd or cursed her. Superstition raged. 
And blinded, fetter'd, and clespoil'd the land. 

At length some murderous monk, with poisonous art, 
Expell'd the life his brethren robb'd of peace. 

Nor yet surceased with John's disastrous fate 
Pontific fury : English wealth exhaust. 
The sequent reign ^ beheld the beggar'd shore 240 

' ' Sequent reign : ' Henry III., who cancelled Magna Charta. 



248 MORAL PIECES. 

Grim with Italian usurers; prepared 24i 

To lend, for griping unexampled hire, 

To lend — what Rome might pillage uncontroll'd. 

For now with more extensive havoc ra^ed 
Relentless Gregory, with a thousand arts. 
And each rapacious, born to drain the world ! 
Nor shall the Muse repeat how oft he blew 
The croise's trumpet ; then for sums of gold 
AnnuU'd the vow, and bade the false alarm 
Swell the gross hoards of Henrj, or his own : 250 

Nor shall she tell how pontiffs dared repeal 
The best of charters ! dared absolve the tie 
Of British kings, by legal oath restrain'd : 
Nor can she dwell on argosies of gold 
From Albion's realm to servile shores convey'd. 
Wrung from her sons, and speeded by her kings ! 
Oh, irksome days ! when wicked thrones combine 
With papal craft to gull their native land! 

Such was our fate, while Rome's director taught 
Of subjects, born to be their monarch's prey, 260 

To toil for monks, for gluttony to toil, 
For vacant gluttony ; extortion, fraud, 
For avarice; envy, pride, revenge, and shame! 
doctrine breathed from Stygian caves! exhaled 
From inmost Erebus! — Such Henry's reign! 
Urging his royal realm's reluctant hand 
To wield the peaceful sword, by John erewhile 
Forced from its scabbard, and with burnish'd lance, 
Essay the savage cure, domestic war ! 

And now some nobler spirits chased the mist 270 
Of general darkness. Grosted^ now adorn'd 
The mitred wreath he wore, with Reason's sM'ord 
Staggering delusion's frauds; at length beneath 

' Grosted : ' Bishop of Lincoln, called Malleus Romanorum. 



MORAL PIECES. 249 

Rome's interdict expiring calm, resign'd ■ 274 

No vulgar soul, that dared to Heav'n appeal! 

But, ah! this fertile glebe, this fair domain, 

Had well-nigh ceded to the slothful hands 

Of monks libidinous ; ere Edward's care 

The lavish hand of deathbed Fear restrain'd. 

Yet was he clear of Superstition's taint? 28O 

He, too, misdeemful of his wholesome law, 

Even he, expiring, gave his treasured gold 

To fatten monks on Salem's distant soil! 

Yes, the Third Edward's breast, to papal swaj 
So little prone, and fierce in honour's cause. 
Could Superstition quell! before the towers 
Of haggard Paris, at the thunder's voice 
He drops the sword, and signs ignoble peace! 

But still the Night, bj Romish art diffused. 
Collects her clouds, and with slow pace recedes ; 290 
When, by soft Bourdeau's braver queen approved. 
Bold Wicklifi* rose ; and while the bigot power 
Amidst her native darkness skulk'd secure, 
The demon vanish'd as he spread the day. 
So from his bosom Cacus breathed of old 
The pitchy cloud, and in a night of smoke 
Secure, awhile his recreant life sustain'd ; 
Till famed Alcides, o'er his subtlest wiles 
Victorious, cheer'd the ravaged nations round. 

Hail, honour'd Wickliff ! enterprising sage ! 300 

An Epicurus in the cause of truth ! 
For 'tis not radiant suns, the jovial hours 
Of youthful Spring, an ether all serene, 
Nor all the verdure of Campania's vales. 
Can chase religious gloom ! 'Tis reason, thought. 
The light, the radiance, that pervades the soul. 
And sheds its beams on heaven's mysterious way! 



250 MORAL PIECES. 

As yet this light but glimmer d, aud agaiu 308 

Error prevail'd ; while kings by force upraised, 

Let loose the rage of bigots on their foes, 

And seek affection by the dreadful boon 

Of licensed murder. Even the kindest prince, 

The most extended breast, the royal Hal, 

All unrelenting heard the Lollards' cry 

Burst from the centre of remorseless flames ; 

Their shrieks endured ! stain to martial praise ! 

When Cobham, generous as the noble peer 

That wears his honours, paid the fatal price 

Of virtue blooming ere the storms were laid ! 

'Twas thus, alternate, truth's precarious flame 320 

Decay'd or flourish'd. With malignant eye 
The pontiff saw Britannia's golden fleece, 
Once all his own, invest her worthier sons ! 
Her verdant valleys, and her fertile plains. 
Yellow with grain, abjure his hateful sway ! 
Essay 'd his utmost art, aud inly own'd 
No labours bore proportion to the prize. 

So when the tempter view'd, with envious eye, 
The first fair pattern of the female frame. 
All Nature's beauties in one form display 'd, 330 

And centering there, in wild amaze he stood; 
Then only envying Heaven's creative hand; 
Wish'd to his gloomy reign his envious arts 
Might win this prize, and doubled every snare. 

And vain were reason, courage, learning, all, 
Till power accede ; till Tudor's wild caprice 
Smile on their cause; Tudor! whose tyrant reign, 
With mental freedom crown'd, the best of kings 
Might envious view, aud ill prefer their own! 
Then Wolsey rose, by Nature form'd to seek 340 

Ambition's trophies, by address to win, 



MORAL PIECES. 251 

By temper to enjoj — whose humbler birth 342 

Taught the gaj scenes of pomp to dazzle more. 

Then from its towering height with horrid sound 
Rush'd the proud abbey : then the vaulted roofs, 
Torn from their walls, disclosed the wanton scene 
Of monkish chastity ! Each angry friar 
Crawl'd from his bedded strumpet, muttering low 
An ineffectual curse. The pervious nooks. 
That, ages past, convey'd the guileful priest 350 

To play some image on the gaping crowd, 
Imbibe the novel daylight, and expose, 
Obvious, the fraudful enginery of Rome. 
As though this opening earth to nether realms 
Should flash meridian day, the hooded race 
Shudder, abash'd to find their cheats display 'd, 
And, conscious of their guilt, and pleased to waive 
Its fearful meed, resign'd their fair domain. 

Nor yet supine, nor void of rage, retired 
The pest gigantic ; whose revengeful stroke 360 

Tinged the red annals of Maria's reign, 
When from the tenderest breast each wayward priest 
Could banish mercy and implant a fiend! 
When cruelty the funeral pyre uprear'd. 
And bound Religion there, and fired the base ! 
When the same blaze, which on each tortured limb 
Fed with luxuriant rage, in every face 
Triumphant faith appear'd, and smiling hope. 
blest Eliza! from thy piercing beam 
Forth flew this hated fiend, the child of Rome; 370 

Driven to the verge of Albion, linger'd there, 
Then with her James receding, cast behind 
One angry frown, and sought more servile climes. 
Henceforth they plied the long-continued task 
Of righteous havoc, covering distant fields 



252 MORAL PIECES. 

With the vrrought remnants of the shatter'd pile ; 376 

While through the land the musing pilgrim sees 

A tract of brighter green, and in the midst 

Appears a mouldering wall, with ivy crown'd, 

Or Gothic turret, pride of ancient days ! 38o 

Now but of use to grace a rural scene, 

To bound our vistas, and to glad the sons 

Of George's reign, reserved for fairer times ! 



LOVE AND HONOUR. 

Sed neque Medorum silvse, ditissima terra 
Nee pulcher Ganges, atque auro turbidus Hoemus, 
Laudibus Angligenfttn certent ; non Bactra, nee Indi, 
Totaque thuriferis Panchaia pinguis arenis. 

Let the green olive glad Hesperian shores ; 
Her tawny citron, and her orange groves, 
These let Iberia boast ; but if in vain, 
To win the stranger plant's diffusive smile. 
The Briton labours, yet our native minds. 
Our constant bosoms, these the dazzled world 
May view with envy ; these Iberian dames 
Survey with fix'd esteem and fond desire. 

Hapless Elvira ! thy disastrous fate 
May well this truth explain, nor ill adorn lo 

The British lyre ; then chiefly, if the Muse, 
Nor vain, nor partial, from the simple guise 
Of ancient record catch the pensive lay, 
And in less grovelling accents give to Fame. 
Elvira ! loveliest maid ! the Iberian realm 
Could boast no purer breast, no sprightlier mind. 
No race more splendent, and no form so fair. 



MORAL PIECES. 253 

Such was the chance of war, this peerless maid, is 

In life's luxuriant bloom, enrich'd the spoil 

Of British victors, victory's noblest pride ! 

She, she alone, amid the wailful train 

Of captive maids, assign'd to Henry's care. 

Lord of her life, her fortune, and her fame ! 

He, generous youth ! with no penurious hand. 
The tedious moments, that unjoyous roll 
Where Freedom's cheerful radiance shines no more, 
Essay'd to soften ; conscious of the pang 
That Beauty feels, to waste its fleeting hours 
In some dim fort, by foreign rule restrain'd, 
Far from the haunts of men, or eye of day ! so 

Sometimes, to cheat her bosom of its cares. 
Her kind protector number'd o'er the toils 
Himself had worn ; the frowns of angry seas, 
Or hostile rage, or faithless friend, more fell 
Than storm or foe ; if haply she might find 
Her cares diminish'd ; fruitless, fond essay ! 
Now to her lovely hand, with modest awe 
The tender lute he gave ; she, not averse, 
Nor destitute of skill, with willing hand 
Call'd forth angelic strains; the sacred debt 40 

Of gratitude, she said, whose just commands 
Still might her hand with equal pride obey ! 

Nor to the melting sounds the nymph refused 
Her vocal art; harmonious as the strain 
Of some imprison'd lark, who, daily cheer'd 
By guardian cares, repays them with a song; 
Nor droops, nor deems sweet liberty resign'd. 

The song, not artless, had she framed to paint 
Disastrous passion; how, by tyrant laws 
Of idiot custom sway'd, some soft-eyed fair 50 

Loved only one, nor dared that love reveal ! 



254 MORAL PIECES. 

How the soft anguish banish'd from her cheek 62 

The damask rose full-blown ; a fever came, 
And from her bosom forced the plaintive tale; 
Then, swift as light, he sought tlie love-lorn maid, 
But vainly sought her; torn by swifter fate 
To join the tenants of the myrtle shade, 
Love's mournful victims on the plains below. 

Sometimes, as Fancy spoke the pleasing task, 
She taught her artful needle to display eo 

The various pride of spring ; then swift upsprung 
Thickets of myrtle, eglantine, and rose : 
There might you see, on gentle toils intent, 
A train of busy Loves ; some pluck the flower, 
Some twine the garland, some v/ith grave grimace 
Around a vacant warrior cast the wreath. 
'Twas paint, 'twas life ! and sure to piercing eyes 
The warrior's face depictured Henry's mien. 

Now had the generous chief with joy perused 
The royal scroll, which to their native home, 70 

Their ancient rights, uninjured, unredeem'd. 
Restored the captives. Forth with rapid haste 
To glad his fair Elvira's ear, he sprung, 
Fired by the bliss he panted to convey ; 
But fired in vain ! Ah ! what was his amaze, 
His fond distress, when o'er her pallid face 
Dejection reign'd, and from her lifeless hand 
Down dropt the myrtle's fair unfinish'd flower ! 
Speechless she stood ; at length, with accents faint, 
" Well may my native shore," she said, " resound so 
Thy monarch's praise ; and here Elvira prove 
Of thine forgetful ; flowers shall cease to feel 
The fostering breeze, and Nature change her laws ! " 

And now the grateful edict wide alarm'd 
The British host. Around the smiling youths, 



MORAL PIECES. 255 

Call'd to their native scenes, with willing haste so 

Their fleet unmoor ; impatient of the love 

That weds each bosom to its native soil. 

The patriot passion ! strong in every clime, 

How justly theirs who find no foreign sweets 

To dissipate their loves, or match their own. 

Not so Elvira ! she, disastrous maid ! 
Was doubly captive ; power nor chance could loose 
The subtle bands ; she loved her generous foe ; 
She, where her Henry dwelt, her Henry smiled, 
Could term her native shore ; her native shore. 
By him deserted, some unfriendly strand. 
Strange, bleak, forlorn ! a desert waste and wild. 

The fleet careen' d, the wind propitious fill'd 
The swelling sails, the glittering transports waved loo 
Their pennants gay, and halcyons' azure wing. 
With flight auspicious, skimm'd the placid main. 

On her lone couch in tears Elvira lay. 
And chid the ofiicious wind, the tempting sea, 
And wish'd a storm as merciless as tore 
Her labouring bosom. Fondly now she strove 
To banish passion ; now the vassal days. 
The captive moments, that so smoothly past, 
By many an art recall'd ; now from her lute 
With trembling fingers call'd the favourite sounds no 
Which Henry deign'd to praise ; and now essay'd. 
With mimic chains of silken fillets wove. 
To paint her captive state ; if any fraud 
Might to her love the pleasing scenes prolong, 
And with the dear idea feast the soul. 

But now the chief return'd, prepared to launch 
On Ocean's willing breast, and bid adieu 
To his fair prisoner. She, soon as she heard 
His hated errand, now no more conceal'd 



256 MORAL PIECES. 

The raging flame; but with a spreading blush 120 

And rising sigh, the latent pang disclosed. 

" Yes, generous youth ! I see thy bosom glow 
With virtuous transport, that the task is thine 
To solve my chains, and to my weeping friends. 
And every longing relative, restore 
A soft-eyed maid, a mild offenceless prey! 
But know, my Soldier ! never youthful mind. 
Torn from the lavish joys of wild expense 
By him he loathed, and in a dungeon bound 
To languish out his bloom, could match the pains 130 
This ill-starr'd freedom gives my tortured mind. 

" What call I freedom ? is it that these limbs, 
From rigid bolts secure, may wander far 
From him I love 1 Alas ! ere I may boast 
That sacred blessing, some superior power 
To mortal kings, to sublunary thrones. 
Must loose my passion, must unchain my soul : 
Even that I loathe : all liberty I loathe ! 
But most the joyless privilege to gaze 
With cold indifierence, where desert is love. 140 

" True, I was born an alien to those eyes 
I ask alone to please ; my fortune's crime ! 
And ah ! this flatter'd form, by dress eudear'd 
To Spanish eyes, by dress may thine ofl'end. 
Whilst I, ill-fated maid ! ordaiu'd to strive 
With custom's load, beneath its weight expire. 

" Yet Henry's beauties knew in foreign garb 
To vanquish me ; his form, how e'er disguised. 
To me were fatal ! no fantastic robe 
That e'er Caprice invented, Custom wore, iso 

Or Folly smiled on, could eclipse thy charms. 

" Perhaps by birth decreed, by Fortune placed 
Thy country's foe, Elvira's warmest plea 



MORAL PIECES. 257 

Seems but tlie subtler accent fraud inspires ; 154 

My tenderest glances but the specious flowers, 

That shade the viper while she plots her wound. 

And can the trembling candidate of love 

Awake thj fears 1 and can a female breast, 

By ties of grateful duty bound, ensnare ■? 

Is there no brighter mien, no softer smile I60 

For love to wear, to dark Deceit unknown ? 

Heaven search my soul ! and if through all its cells 

Lurk the pernicious drop of poisonous guile. 

Full on my fenceless head its viall'd wrath 

May Fate exhaust, and for my happiest hour 

Exalt the vengeance I prepare for thee ! 

" Ah me ! nor Henry's nor his country's foe. 
On thee I gazed, and Reason soon dispell'd 
Dim Error's gloom, and to thy favour'd isle 
Assign'd its total merit, unrestrain'd. 170 

Oh! lovely region to the candid eye! 
'Twas there my fancy saw the Virtues dwell. 
The Loves, the Graces, play, and bless'd the soil 
That nurtured thee ! for sure the Virtues form'd 
Thy generous breast ; the Loves, the Graces plann'd 
Thy shapely limbs. Relation, birth, essay'd 
Their partial power in vain ; again I gazed. 
And Albion's isle appear'd, amidst a tract 
Of savage wastes, the darling of the skies ! 
And thou, by Nature form'd, by Fate assign'd, 180 

To paint the genius of thy native shore. 

" 'Tis true, with flowers, with many a dazzling scene 
Of burnish'd plants, to lure a female eye, 
Iberia glows ; but, ah ! the genial sun. 
That gilds the lemon's fruit, or scents the flower. 
On Spanish minds, a nation's nobler boast, 
Beams forth ungentle influences. There 

B 



258 MORAL PIECES. 

Sits Jealousy enthroned, and at each ray i88 

Exultant lights his slow consuming fires. 

Not such thy charming region ; long before 

My sweet experience taught me to decide 

Of English worth, the sound had pleased mine ear. 

Is there that savage coast, that rude sojourn, 

Stranger to British worth 1 the worth which forms 

The kindest friends, the most tremendous foes ; 

First, best supports of liberty and love ! 

No, let subjected India, while she throws 

O'er Spanish deeds the veil, your praise resound. 

Long as I heard, or ere in story read 

Of English fame, my biass'd partial breast 200 

Wish'd them success : and happiest she, I cried, 

Of women happiest she, who shares the love, 

The fame, the virtues, of an English lord. 

And now, what shall I say ? Blest be the hour 

Your fair-built vessels touch'd the Iberian shores : 

Blest, did I say, the time ? if I may bless 

That loved event, let Henry's smiles declare. 

Our hearts and cities won, will Henry's youth 

Forego its nobler conquest *? will he slight 

The soft endearments of the lovelier spoil 1 210 

And yet Iberia's sons, with every vow 

Of lasting faith, have sworn these humble charms 

Were not excell'd ; the source of all their pains, 

And love her just desert, who sues for love, 

But sues to thee, while natives sigh in vain. 

" Perhaps in Henry's eye (for vulgar minds 
Dissent from his) it spreads a hateful stain 
On honest Fame, amid his train to bear 
A female friend. Then learn, my gentle youth! 
Not Love himself, with all the pointed pains 220 

That store his quiver, shall seduce my soul 



MOKAL PIECES. 259 

From honour's laws. Elvira once denied 222 

A consort's name, more swift than lightning flies 
When elements discordant vex the sky, 
Shall, blushing, from the form she loves retire. 

" Yet if the specious wish the vulgar voice 
Has titled Prudence, sways a soul like thine, 
In gems or gold what proud Iberian dame 
Eclipses me ? Nor paint the dreary storms 
Or hair-breadth 'scapes that haunt the boundless deep, 
And force from tender eyes the silent tear; 231 

When Memory to the pensive maid suggests. 
In full contrast, the safe domestic scene 
For these resign'd. Beyond the frantic rage 
Of conquering heroes brave, the female mind, 
When steel'd by love, in Love's most horrid way 
Beholds not danger, or, beholding, scorns. 
Heaven take my life, but let it crown my love !" 

She ceased ; and ere his words her fate decreed. 
Impatient, watch'd the language of his eye : 240 

There Pity dwelt, and from its tender sphere 
Sent looks of love, and faithless hopes inspired. 

" Forgive me, generous maid !" the youth return'd, 
" If by thy accents charm'd, thus long I bore 
To let such sweetness plead, alas ! in vain. 
Thy virtue merits more than crowns can yield 
Of solid bliss, or happiest love bestow : 
But ere from native shores I plough'd the main, 
To one dear maid, by virtue, and by charms 
Alone endear' d, my plighted vows I gave ; 250 

To guard my faith, whatever chance should wait 
My warring sword : if conquest, fame, and spoil, 
Graced my return, before her feet to pour 
The glittering treasure, and the laurel wreath, 
Enjoying conquest then, and fame and spoil : 



260 MORAL PIECES. 

If Fortune frown'd adverse, and Death forbade 256 

The bhssful union, with mj latest breath 

To dwell on Medway's and Maria's name. 

Tliis ardent vow deep-rooted, from mj soul 

No dangers tore ; this vow my bosom fired 260 

To conquer danger, and the spoil enjoy. 

Her shall I leave, with fair events elate. 

Who crown'd mine humblest fortune with her love 1 

Her shall I leave, who now, perchance, alone 

Climbs the proud cliiF, and chides my slow return 1 

And shall that vessel, whose approaching sails 

Shall swell her breast with extasies, convey 

Death to her hopes, and anguish to her soul ? 

No ! may the deep my villain corse devour, 

If all the wealth Iberian mines conceal, 270 

If all the charms Iberian maids disclose. 

If thine, Elvira, thine, uniting all. 

Thus far prevail — nor can thy virtuous breast 

Demand what honour, faith, and love, denies." 

" Oh ! happy she,'' rejoin'd the pensive maid, 
" Who shares thy fame, thy virtue, and thy love ! 
And be she happy! thy distinguish'd choice 
Declares her worth, and vindicates her claim. 
Farewell my luckless hopes ! my flattering dreams 
Of rapturous days ! my guilty suit, farewell ! 280 

Yet fond howe'er my plea, or deep the wound 
That waits my fame, let not the random shaft 
Of Censure pierce with me the Iberian dames ; 
They love witli caution, and with happier stars. 
And, oh ! by pity moved, restrain the taunts 
Of levity, nor brand Elvira's flame ; 
By merit raised, by gratitude approved. 
By hope confirm'd, with artless truth reveal'd, 
Let, let me say, but for one matchless maid 



MORAL PIECES. 261 

Of happier birth, with mutual ardour crowu'd. 290 

" These radiant gems, which burnish Happiness, 
But mock Misfortune, to thj favourite's hand 
With care convey ; and well may such adorn 
Her cheerful front, who finds in thee alone 
The source of every transport, but disgrace 
My pensive breast, which, doom'd to lasting woe, 
In thee the source of every bliss resign. 

" And now, farewell, thou darling youth ! the gem 
Of English merit ! Peace, content, and joy, 
And tender hopes, and young desires, farewell! soo 

Attend, ye smiling Train ! this gallant mind 
Back to his native shores ; there sweetly smooth 
His evening pillow, dance around his groves, 
And, where he treads, with violets paint his w^ay : 
But leave Elvira ! leave her, now no more 
Your frail companion ! in the sacred cells 
Of some lone cloister let me shroud my shame ; 
There to the matin bell, obsequious, pour 
My constant orisons. The wanton Loves 
And gay Desires, shall spy the glimmering towers, sio 
And wing their flight aloof : but rest confirm'd. 
That never shall Elvira's tongue conclude 
Her shortest prayer, ere Henry's dear success 
The warmest accent of her zeal employ." 

Thus spoke the weeping fair, whose artless mind 
Impartial scorn'd to model her esteem 
By native customs ; dress, and face, and air, 
And manners, less ; nor yet resolved in vain. 
He, bound by prior love, the solemn vow 
Given and received, to soft compassion gave 320 

A tender tear ; then with that kind adieu 
Esteem could warrant, wearied Heaven with prayers 
To shield that tender breast he left forlorn. 



262 MORAL PIECES. 

He ceased ; and to the cloister's pensive scene 324 
Elvira shaped her solitary way. 



THE SCHOOLMISTRESS. 

IN IMITATION OP SPENSEK. 

Auditse voces, vagitus et ingens, 
lufantumque animse flentes in limine primo. Virq. 



ADVERTISEMENT. 

What particulars in Speuser were imagined most proper for tlie author's imi- 
tation on this occasion, are his language, his simplicity, his manner of 
description, and a peculiar tenderness of sentiment remarkable through- 
out his works. 



L Ah me ! full sorely is my heart forlorn, 
To think how modest worth neglected lies, 
While partial Fame doth with her blasts adorn 
Such deeds alone, as pride and pomp disguise ; 
Deeds of ill sort, and mischievous emprize : 
Lend me thy clarion, Goddess ! let me try 
To sound the praise of Merit, ere it dies ; 
Such as I oft have chaunced to espy 

Lost in the dreary shades of dull obscurity. 

I h\ every village mark'd with little spire, 

Embower'd in trees, and hardly known to fame. 
There dwells, in lowly shed and mean attire, 
A matron old, whom we schoolmistress name. 
Who boasts unruly brats with birch to tame ; 



MOEAL PIECES. 263 

Thej grieven sore, in piteous durance pent, 
' Awed bj the power of this relentless dame, 
And ofttimes, on vagaries idlj bent, 
For unkempt hair, or task unconn'd, are sorely shent. 

3 And all in sight doth rise a birchen tree. 

Which Learning near her little dome did stow, 
Whilom a twig of small regard to see. 
Though now so wide its waving branches flow, 
And work the simple vassals mickle woe ; 
For not a wind might curl the leaves that blew. 
But their limbs shudder'd, and their pulse beat low, 
And as they look'd they found their horror grew, 
And shaped it into rods, and tingled at the view. 

4 So have I seen (who has not, may conceive), 
A lifeless phantom near a garden placed, 
So doth it wanton birds of peace bereave, 
Of sport, of song, of pleasure, of repast ; 

They start, they stare, they wheel, they look aghast ; 
Sad servitude ! such comfortless annoy 
May no bold Briton's riper age e'er taste ! 
Ne superstition clog his dance of joy, 
Ne vision empty, vain, his native bliss destroy. 

5 Near to this dome is found a patch so green, . 
On which the tribe their gambols do display. 
And at the door imprisoning board is seen, 
Lest weakly wights of smaller size should stray. 
Eager, perdie, to bask in sunny day ! 

The noises intermix'd, which thence resound. 
Do Learning's little tenement betray ; 
Where sits the dame, disguised in look profound, 
•And eyes her fairy throng, and turns her wheel around. 



264 MORAL PIECES. 

6 Her cap, far whiter than the driven snow, 
Emblem right meet of decency does yield ; 
Her apron, dyed in grain, as blue, I trow, 
As in the harebell that adorns the field ; 
And in her hand, for scepter, she does wield 
Tway birchen sprays ; with anxious fear entwined, 
With dark distrust, and sad repentance fill'd. 
And stedfast hate, and sharp affliction joiu'd, 

And fuiy uncontroU'd, and chastisement unkind. 

7 Few but have kenn'd, in semblance meet portray'd, 
The childish faces, of old JEoVs train. 

Libs, Notus, Auster : these in frowns array'd, 
How then would fare on earth, or sky, or main, 
Were the stern god to give his slaves the rein ? 
And were not she rebellious breasts to quell, 
And were not she her statutes to maintain. 
The cot no more, I ween, were deem'd the cell 
Where comely Peace of Mind, and decent Order dwell. 

8 A russet stole was o'er her shoulders thrown, 
A russet kirtle fenced the nipping air ; 
'Twas simple russet, but it was her own ; 
'Twas her own country bred the flock so fair ; 
'Twas her own labour did the fleece prepare ; 
And, sooth to say, her pupils, ranged around, 
Through pious awe, did term it passing rare ; 
For they in gaping wonderment abound. 

And think, no doubt, she been the greatest wight on ground. 

9 Albeit ne flattery did corrupt her truth, 
Ne pompous title did debauch her ear ; 
Goody, good-womau, gossip, n'aunt, forsooth. 

Or dame, the sole additions she did hear ; • 



MORAL PIECES. 265 

Yet these she challenged, these she held right dear ; 
Ne ■would esteem hira act as mought behove, 
Who should not honour'd eld with these revere ; 
For never title jet so mean could prove, 
But there was eke a mind which did that title love. 

10 One ancient hen she took delight to feed, 
The plodding pattern of the busy dame. 
Which ever and anon, impell'd by need, 
Into her school, begirt with chickens, came, 
Such favour did her past deportment claim ; 
And, if neglect had lavish'd on the ground 
Fragment of bread, she would collect the same ; 
For well she knew, and quaintly could expound. 

What sin it were to waste the smallest crumb she found. 

1 1 Herbs too, she knew, and well of each could speak, 
That in her garden sipp'd the silvery dew, 
Where no vain flower disclosed a gaudy streak, 
But herbs for use, and physick, not a few. 

Of grey renown, within those borders grew ; 
The tufted basil, pun-provoking thyme, 
Fresh baum, and marygold of chearful hue. 
The lowly gill, that never dares to climb, 
And more I fain would sing, disdaining here to rhyme. 

1 2 Yet euphrasy may not be left unsung. 

That gives dim eyes to wander leagues around ; 
And pungent radish, biting infant's tongue ; 
And plantain ribb'd, that heals the reaper's wound ; 
And marjoram sweet, in shepherd's posie found ; 
And lavender, whose pikes of azure bloom 
Shall be, ere while, in arid bundles bound, 
To lurk amidst the labours of her loom, 
And crown her kerchiefs clean with mickle rare perfume. 



266 MORAL PIECES. 

13 And here trim rosemarine, that whilom crotvn'd 
The daintiest garden of the proudest peer ; 
Ere, driven from its envied site, it found 

A sacred shelter for its branches here ; 
Where edged with gold its glittering skirts appear. 
wassel days ! customs meet and well ! 
Ere this was banish'd from its lofty sphere ; 
Simplicity then sought this humble cell, 
Nor ever would she more with thane and lordling dwell. 

14 Here oft the dame, on Sabbath's decent eve. 
Hymned such psalms as Sternhold forth did mete ; 
If winter 'twere, she to her hearth did cleave, 
But in her garden found a summer-seat : 

Sweet melody ! to hear her then repeat 
How Israel's sons, beneath a foreign king. 
While taunting foemen did a song entreat, 
All for the nonce untuning every string, 
Uphung their useless lyres — small heart had they to sing. 

15 For she was just, and friend to virtuous lore. 
And pass'd much time in truly virtuous deed ; 
And, in those elfins' ears, would oft deplore. 
The times when Truth by Popish rage did bleed, 
And tortious death was true Devotion's meed ; 
And simple Faith in iron chains did mourn, 
That nould ^ on wooden image place her creed ; 
And lawny saints in smouldering flames did burn : 

Ah! dearest Lord! forfend thilk days should e'er return. 

16 In elbow-chair, like that of Scottish stem 

By the sharp tooth of cankering Eld defaced, 

In which, when he receives his diadem. 

Our sovereign prince and liefest liege is placed, 

' ' Nould ' is ' would not.' 



MORAL PIECES. 267 

The matron sate ; and some with rank she graced, 
(The source of children's and of courtiers' pride !) 
Redress'd affronts, for vile affronts there pass'd. 
And warn'd them not the fretful to deride. 
But love each other dear, whatever them betide. 

17 Right well she knew each temper to descry, 
To thwart the proud, and the submiss to raise; 
Some with vile copper prize exalt on high. 
And some entice with pittance small of praise ; 
And other some with baleful sprig she 'frays : 
Even absent, she the reins of power doth hold. 
While with quaint arts the giddy crowd she sways ; 
Forewarn'd, if little bird their pranks behold, 

'Twill whisper in her ear, and all the scene unfold. 

18 Lo I now with state she utters the command ; 
Eftsoons the urchins to their tasks repair ; 
Their books, of stature small, they take in hand, 
Which with pellucid horn secured are, 

To save from finger wet the letters fair ; 
The work so gay, that on their back is seen, 
St George's high achievements does declare, 
On which thilk wight that has y-gazing been 
Kens the forthcoming rod, unpleasing sight, I ween ! 

19 Ah ! luckless he, and born beneath the beam 
Of evil star ! it irks me whilst I write ! 

As erst the bard ^ by Mulla's silver stream. 
Oft as he told of deadly dolorous plight, 
Sigh'd as he sung, and did in tears indite ; 
For brandishing the rod, she doth begin 

* ' The bard : ' Spenser. 



268 MORAL PIECES.. 

To loose the brogues, the stripling's late delight ! 
And down they drop, appears his dainty skin, 
Fair as the furry coat of whitest ermilin. 

20 ruthful scene! when from a nook obscure 
His little sister doth his peril see; 

All playful as she sate she grows demure, 
She finds full soon her wonted spirits flee ; 
She meditates a prayer to set him free ; 
Nor gentle pardon could this dame deny, 
(If gentle pardon could with dames agree) 
To her sad grief that swells in either eye, 
Alid wrings her so that all for pity she could die. 

21 No longer can she now her shrieks command. 
And hardly she forbears, through awful fear. 
To rushen forth, and, with presumptuous hand, 
To stay harsh justice in its mid career. 

On thee she calls, on thee, her parent dear! 
(Ah ! too remote to ward the shameful blow !) 
She sees no kind domestic visage near. 
And soon a flood of tears begins to flow, 
And gives a loose at last to unavailing woe. 

22 But, ah ! what pen his piteous phght may trace 1 
Or what device his loud laments explain ? 

The form uncouth of his disguised face 1 
The pallid hue that dyes his looks amain ? 
The plenteous shower that does his cheek distain ? 
When he, in abject wise, implores the dame, 
Ne hopeth aught of sweet reprieve to gain ; 
Or when from high she levels well her aim, [claim. 
And, through the thatch, his cries each falling stroke pro- 



MORAL PIECES. 269 

23 The other tribe, aghast, with sore dismay, 
Attend, and conn their tasks with mickle care ; 
Bj turns, astonj'd, every twig survey. 

And from their fellows' hateful wounds beware, 
Knowing, I wist, how each the same may share; 
Till fear has taught them a performance meet. 
And to the well-known chest the dame repair, 
Whence oft with sugar cates she doth them greet, 
And gingerbread y-rare ; now, certes, doubly sweet ! 

24 See to their seats they hye with merry glee. 
And in beseemly order sitten there ; 

All but the wight of bum y-galled, he 
Abhorreth bench, and stool, and fourm, and chair, 
(This hand in mouth y-fix'd, that rends his hair;) 
And eke with snubs profound, and heaving breast. 
Convulsions intermitting! does declare 
His grievous wrong, his dame's unjust behest. 
And scorns her ofFer'd love, and shuns to be caress'd. 

25 His face besprent with liquid crystal shines. 
His blooming face, that seems a purple flower. 
Which low to earth its drooping head declines. 
All smear'd and sully'd by a vernal shower. 

the hard bosoms of despotic Power! 
All, all, but she, the author of his shame. 
All, all, but she, regret this mournful hour ; 
Yet hence the youth, and hence the flower shall claim. 
If so I deem aright, transcending worth and fame. 

26 Behind some door, in melancholy thought. 
Mindless of food, he, dreary caitiff! pines; 
Ne for his fellows' joyaunce careth aught, 
But to the wind all merriment resigns, 



270 MORAL PIECES. 

And deems it shame if he to peace inclines ; 
And many a sullen look askaunce is sent, 
Which for his dame's annoyance he designs; 
And still the more to pleasure him she 's bent, 
The more doth he, perverse, her 'haviour past resent. 

27 Ah me ! how much I fear lest pride it be ! 
But if that pride it be, which thus inspires. 
Beware, ye dames ! with nice discernment see 
Ye quench not, too, the sparks of nobler fires : 
Ah! better far than all the Muses' lyres, 

All coward arts, is valour's generous heat; 
The firm fixt breast which fit and right requires. 
Like Vernon's patriot soul ! more justly great 
Than craft that pimps for ill, or flowery false deceit. 

28 Yet nursed with skill, what dazzling fruits appear ! 
Even now sagacious foresight points to show 

A little bench of heedless bishops here. 
And there a chancellour in embryo. 
Or bard sublime, if bard may e'er be so. 
As Milton, Shakspeare, names that ne'er shall die ! 
Though now he crawl along the ground so low, 
Nor weeting how the Muse should soar on high, 
Wisheth, poor starveling elf! his paper kite may fly. 

29 And this, perhaps, who, censuring the design, 
Low lays the house which that of cards doth build, 
Shall Dennis be ! if rigid Fate incline. 

And many an epic to his rage shall yield, 
And many a poet quit the Aonian field; 
And, sour'd by age, profound he shall appear. 
As he who now with 'sdainful fury thrill'd 
Surveys mine work, and levels many a sneer, [here ! " 
And furls his wrinkly front, and cries, " Wliat stuff is 



MORAL PIECES. 271 

30 But now Dan Phoebus gains the middle skj, 
And Liberty unbars her prison door, 

And like a rushing torrent out they flj, 
And now the grassy cirque han cover'd o'er 
With boisterous revel rout and wild uproar ; 
A thousand ways in wanton rings they run, 
Heaven shield their shortlived pastimes, I implore ! 
For well may Freedom, erst so dearly won, 
Appear to British elf more gladsome than the sun. 

31 Enjoy, poor imps ! enjoy your sportive trade. 
And chase gay flies, and cull the fairest flowers, 
For when my bones in grass-green sods are laid, 
For never may ye taste more careless hours 

In knightly castles or in ladies' bowers. 
vain to seek delight in earthly thing ! 
But most in courts, where proud Ambition towers ; 
Deluded wight ! who weens fair peace can spring 
Beneath the pompous dome of kesar or of king. 

32 See in each sprite some various bent appear! 
These rudely carol most incondite lay : 

Those sauntering on the green, with jocund leer 
Salute the stranger passing on his way; 
Some builden fragile tenements of clay ; 
Some to the standing lake their courses bend. 
With pebbles smooth at duck and drake to play ; 
Thilk to the huxter's savoury cottage tend. 
In pastry kings and queens the allotted mite to spend. 

33 Here, as each season yields a different store. 
Each season's stores in order ranged been ; 
Apples with cabbage-net y-cover'd o'er, 
GaUing full sore the unmoneyed wight, are seen, 



272 MORAL PIECES. 

And gooseb'rie, clad in livery red or green ; 
And here of lovely dye the Catharine pear, 
Fine pear ! as lovely for thy juice I ween ; 
may no wight e'er pennyless come there, 
Lest smit with ardent love he pine with hopeless care ! 

34 See ! cherries here, ere cherries yet abound. 
With thread so white in tempting posies ty'd, 
Scattering like blooming maid their glances round, 
With pamper'd look draw little eyes aside, 

And must be bought, though penury betide ; 
The plum all azure, and the nut all brown ; 
And here each season do those cakes abide. 
Whose honour'd names ^ the inventive city own. 
Rendering through Britain's isle Salopia's praises known. 

35 Admired Salopia! that with venial pride 
Eyes her bright form in Severn's ambient wave. 
Famed for her loyal cares in perils try'd, 

Her daughters lovely, and her striplings brave ; 
Ah! midst the rest, may flowers adorn his grave 
Whose art did first these dulcet cates display ! 
A motive fair to Learning's imps he gave. 
Who cheerless o'er her darkling region stray. 
Till Reason's morn arise, and light them on their way. 

' Shrewsbury cakes. 



INSCRIPTIONS. 



I. ON A TABLET AGAINST A ROOT- HOUSE. 

1 Here, in cool grot and mossy cell, 
We rural fays and fairies dwell ; 
Though rarely seen by mortal eye, 
When the pale moon, ascending high, 
Darts through yon lines her quivering beams, 
We frisk it near these crystal streams. 

2 Her beams, reflected from the wave, 
Afford the light our revels crave ; 
The turf, with daisies broider'd o'er, 
Exceeds, we wot, the Parian floor; 
Nor yet for artful strains we call, 
But listen to the water's fall. 

3 Would you then taste our tranquil scene, 
Be sure your bosoms be serene ; 
Devoid of hate, devoid of strife, 
Devoid of all that poisons life : 

And much it 'vails you in their place, 
To gi'aft the love of human race. 
s 



274 INSCRIPTIONS. 

4 And tread with awe these favour'd bowers, 
Nor wound the shrubs, nor bruise the flowers ; 
So may your path with sweets abound; 
So may your couch with rest be crown'd ! 
But harm betide the wayward swain, 
Who dares our hallow'd haunts profane ! 



II. ON AN URN. 

INGENIO ET AMIClTIiE 
GULIELMI SOMERVILE. 

And on the opposite side, 

G. S. POSVIT, 

Debita spargeus lacryma favillam 

Vatis amici. 



III. TO MR DODSLEY. 



Come then, my friend, thy Sylvan shade display, 
Come hear thy Fauuus tune his rustic lay ; 
Ah, rather come, and in these dells disown 
The care of other strains, and tune thine own. 



INSCKIPTIONS. 275 



IV. ON THE BACK OF A GOTHIC SEAT. 

1 Shepherd, wouldst thou here obtain 
Pleasure unalloj'd with pain 1 

Joy that suits the rural sphere 1 
Gentle shepherd, lend an ear. 

2 Learn to relish calm delight, 
Verdant vales and fountains bright ; 
Trees that nod o'er sloping hills, 
Caves that echo tinkling rills. 

3 If thou canst no charm disclose 
In the simplest bud that blows ; 
Go, forsake thj plain and fold ; 
Join the crowd, and toil for gold. 

4 Tranquil pleasures never cloy; 
Banish each tumultuous joy ; 
All but love — for love inspires 
Fonder wishes, warmer fires, 

5 Love and all its joys be thine — 
Yet, ere thou the reins resign, 
Hear what reason seems to say, 
Hear attentive, and obey. 

6 " Crimson leaves the rose adorn, 
But beneath them lurks a thorn; 
Fair and flowery is the brake, 
Yet it hides the vengeful snake. 



276 INSCRIPTIONS. 

7 " Think not she, whose emptj pride 
Dares the fleecy garb deride, 
Think not she, who, light and vain. 
Scorns the sheep, can love the swain. 

8 " Artless deed and simple dress 
Mark the chosen shepherdess; 
Thoughts bj decency controll'd, 
Well conceived and freely told. 

9 " Sense that shuns each conscious air, 
Wit, that falls ere well aware ; 
Generous pity, prone to sigh 

If her kid or lambkin die. 

10 " Let not lucre, let not pride. 
Draw thee from such charms aside ; 
Have not those their proper sphere 'i 
Gentler passions triumph here. 

11 " See, to sweeten thy repose. 

The blossom buds, the fountain flows ; 
Lo ! to crown thy healthful board, 
All that milk and fi'uits afford. 

12 " Seek no more — the rest is vain; 
Pleasure ending soon in pain: 
Anguish lightly gilded o'er : 
Close thy wish, and seek no more." 



INSCKIPTIONS. 277 



V. ON THE BACK OF A GOTHIC ALCOVE. 

1 jou that bathe in courtly bljsse 

Or toyle in fortune's giddy spheare ; 
Do not too rashly deem amysse 
Of him that bydes contented here. 

2 Nor yet disdeigne the russet stoale, 

Which o'er each carelesse lymb he flyngs : 
Nor yet deryde the beechen bowle, 

In whyche he quaffs the lympid spriugs. 

3 Forgive him, if at eve or dawne, 

Devoide of worldlye cark he stray : 
Or all beside some flowery lawne, 
He waste his inoffensive daye. 

4 So may he pardonne fraud and strife, 

If such in courtly e haunt he see : 
For faults there beene in busye life, 

From whyche these peaceful glens are free. 



VI. ON A SEAT, UNDER A SPREADING BEECH. 

Hoc erat in votis : modus agri non ita magnus, 
Hortus ubi, et tecto vicinus jugis aquae fons, 
Et paulum sylvae super his foret. Auctius atque 
Dii melius fecere. 



278 INSCRIPTIONS. 



VIT. ON A SEAT. 

lOSEPHO SPENCE, 

EXIMIO NOSTRO CRITONI ; 

CVI DICARI VELLET 

MVSARVM OMNIVM ET GRATIARVM CHORVS, 

DICAT AMICITIA. 

MDCCLVIII. 



VIII. ON THE ASSIGNATION SEAT. 

Nerinc Galatea ! tlijmo mihi dulcior Hyblse, 
Candidior cjgnis, hedera formosior alba ! 
Cum primura pasti repetent prsesepia tauri, 
Si qucC tiii Corydonis liabet te ciira, venito. 



IX. ON A SEAT. 

CELEBERRIMO POET^ 

JACOBO THOMSON 

PROPE PONTES ILLI NON FASTIDITOS 

G. S. 

SEDEM HANG ORNAVIT. 

Quae tibi, qua3 tali reddam pro carmine dona ? 
Nam neque me tantmn venientis sibilus austri, 
Nee percussa juvant fluctu tarn litora, nee quse 
Saxosas inter decurrunt flumina valles. 



INSCRIPTIONS. 279 



X. ON AN ORNAMENTED URN. 

INSCRIBED TO MISS DOLMAN, A BEAUTIFUL AND AMIABLE 
RELATION OP MR SHENSTONE's, WHO DIED OF THE 
SMALLPOX, ABOUT TWENTY-ONE YEARS OF AGE. 

PERAMABILI BYM CONSOBRINJ; 
M. D. 

On the other side : — 

AH MARIA 

PVELLARVM ELEGANTISSIMA, 

AH FLORE VENVSTATIS ABREPTA, 

VALE ! 

HEV QVANTO MINVS EST 

CVM RELIQVIS VERSARI, 

QVAM TVI 

MEMINISSE ! 



XL ON A SEAT, 

AT THE BOTTOM OF A LARGE ROOT, ON THE SIDE OF A 

SLOPE. 

1 let me haunt this peaceful shade ; 
Nor let Ambition e'er invade 
The tenants of this leafj bower, 
That shun her paths, and slight her power ! 



280 INSCKIPTIONS. 

2 Hither the peaceful Halcjon flies 
From social meads and open skies; 
Pleased bj this rill her course to steer, 
And hide her sapphire plumage here. 

3 The trout, bedropt with crimson stains. 
Forsakes the river's proud domains ; 
Forsakes the sun's unwelcome gleam, 
To lurk within this humble stream. 

4 And sure I hear the Naiad saj, 

Flow, flow, mj stream, this devious way, 
Though lovely soft thj murmurs are. 
Thy waters lovely cool and fair. 

5 Flow, gentle stream, nor let the vain 
Thy small unsullied stores disdain : 
Nor let the pensive sage repine, 
Whose latent course resembles thine. 



XII. ON A SMALL OBELISK IN VIRGIL'S GROVE. 

p. VIRGILIO MARONI 
LAPIS ISTE CVM LVCO SACER ESTO. 



XIII. ON A STONE, BY A CHALYBEAT SPRING. 

FONS FERRVGINEVS. 
BIYM QVM SECESSV ISTO FRVI CONCEDIT. 



INSCRIPTIONS. 281 



Xiy. ON A STONE SEAT, MAKING PART OF A 

CAVE. 

INTVS AQViE DULCIS, VIVOQVE SEDILIA SAXO; 
NYMPHAKVM DOMVS. 



XV. ON TWO SEATS, TO TWO OF HIS MOST 
PARTICULAR FRIENDS. 

The first thus : — 

AMICITIJ; ET MERITIS 

EICHAKDI GRAVES: 

IPS^ TE, TITYRE, PINVS, 

IPS! TE FONTES, IPSA H^C AEBVSTA VOCABANT. 

The other : — 

AMICITI^ ET MERITIS 
RICHAEDI lAGO. 



XVI. ON A STATUE OF VENUS DE MEDICIS. 

" Semi educta Venus." 

1 " To Venus, Venus here retired, 
Mj sober vows I pay : 
Not her on Paphian plains admired, 
The bold, the pert, the gay. 



282 INSCRIPTIONS. 

2 " Not her whose amorous leer prevail'd 

To bribe the Phrygian boy ; 
Not her who, clad in armour, fail'd 
To save disastrous Troy. 

3 " Fresh rising from the foamy tide. 

She every bosom warms ; 
While half withdrawn she seems to hide. 
And half reveals, her charms. 

4 " Learn hence, ye boastful sons of taste, 

Who plan the rural shade ; 
Learn hence to shun the vicious waste 
Of pomp, at large displayed. 

5 " Let sweet concealment's magic art 

Your mazy bounds invest; 
And while the sight unveils a part. 
Let fancy paint the rest. 

6 " Let coy reserve with cost unite 

To grace your wood or field ; 

No ray obtrusive pall the sight, 

In aught you paint, or build. 

7 " And far be driven the sumptuous glare 

Of gold, from British groves ; 
And far the meretricious air 
Of China's vain alcoves. 

8 " 'Tis bashful beauty ever twines 

The most coercive chain; 
'Tis she that sovereign rule declines. 
Who best deserves to reign." 



mscRiPTioi^s. 283 

XVII. 

INTENDED TO BE WRITTEN AT THE 

BEGINNING OF A COLLECTION OF FLOWERS, 

WHICH MR SHENSTONE COLOURED FOR MRS JAGO. 

ELEGANTISSIM^ PVELL^ 

DOROTHEiE FANCOVRT 

QUiE PERDILECTI SVI CONDISCIPVLI 

RICHARDI lAGO 

AMORES MERVIT, 

D. D. 

GVLIELMVS SHENSTONE ' 

DEBITiE NYMPH IS OPIFEX CORONA. 



XVIIL 

PROPOSED TO 

MR GRAVES BY MR SHENSTONE, 

AS A PROPER INSCRIPTION FOR HIMSELF. 

AMICITIiE G. S. 

QVI, 

NAIADAS PARITER AC MVSAS 

EXCOLENDO. 

SIMUL ET VILLAM EIVS ELEGANTISSIMAM 

NOMENQVE SVVM 

ILLVSTRAVIT. 

" (fORTVNATVS ET ILLE DEOS QVI NOVIT 

" AGRESTES) 
" PANAQYE, SYLVANVMQVE, SENEM, NYM- 

" PHASQVJl SORORES." ViRG. 



284 INSCRIPTIONS. 

XIX. 
EPITAPH, 

IN HALES-OWEN CHORCHYARD, ON MISS ANNE POWEL. 

Here, here she lies, a budding rose. 

Blasted before its bloom. 
Whose innocence did sweets disclose 

Beyond that flower's perfume. 
To those who for her death are grieved, 

This consolation 's given ; 
She's from the storms of life relieved 

To shine more bright in heaven. 



THE END. 



riALI-ANTVNB, PniNTKH, KniNBl'liOH. 



JUL ~2 1.}34 



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